UBRARY 

^VERSITY  OF  CAUFOWtiA 

RIVERSIDE 


THE   LIFE  AND   LETTERS 

OF 

MADAME  ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE 


,.^y^f4x^3^(g^?ze-    ^.^^-^/x^g^e^t^ ' 


OLD  FRENCH  COURT  MEMOIRS 

TEE  LIFE  AND  LETTEKS  OF 

MADAME  ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE 

FOLLOWED  BY 

THE  JOURNAL  OF  THE  TEMPLE 
BY  CLERY 

AND 

THE  NARRATIVE  OF   MARIE   THERESE   DE 
FRANCE,  DUCHESSE  D'ANGOULEME 

TBANHLATED    BT  KATHARINE    PBESCOTT    WOBMELEY 
ILLVSTBATED   WITH  PORTRAITS  FROM  THE  ORIGINAL 


^^  ^yic-^s^ 


VOLUME    IX 


NEW    YORK 

BRENTANO'S 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,    1901 
By  Hardy,  Pratt  &  Company 

All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  in  the 
United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS. 


part  i?irsc» 

LIFE   AND  LETTERS  OF  MADAME  ELISABETH  DE 
FRANCE. 

CHAPTER  L 

Pagk 

lutroductory.  —  Sketch  of  the  Life  of  Madame  Elisabeth  from  her 

Childhood  until  August  10,  1792 1 

CHAPTER  IL 

Letters  of  Madame  Elisabeth  to  the  Marquise  de  Bombelles,  the  Mar- 
quise de  Raigecourt,  the  Abbe  de  Lubersac,  and  others 33 

CHAPTER  HI. 

Mailanie  Elisabeth's  Life  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple  recorded  only  by 
her  Niece,  Marie-Thercse  de  France,  and  by  Clc'ry,  Louis  XVI.'s 
Valet. —  Her  Removal  to  the  Conciergerie.  —  Her  Examination, 
Condemnation,  and  Death 90 


part  ^econD* 

JOURNAL   OF   THE   TOWER   OF   THE   TEMPLE, 
BY   CLfiRY. 

CHAPTER  L 

The  10th  of  Aucjust,  1792.     Clery  permitted  to  serve  the  King  and  his 

Family.  —  Life  and  Treatment  of  the  Royal  Family  in  the  Tower 

of  the  Temple Ill 

J  Mem.  Ver.  !) 


VI  CONTENTS. 


CIIAl'TER   II. 

Paqk 

Coutinuation  of  their  Life  ami  'rroatiucnt.  —  Tlie  King  separated  froiu 

his  l'"aiuily,  aud  suminuned  for  Trial  before  the  Couveutiou   .     .     .     138 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  King's  Trial.  —  His  Will.  —  The  Decree  of  the  Convention  con- 
demning the  King  to  Death.  —  Last  Meeting  with  his  Family.  — 
Leaves  the  Temple  for  his  Execution 175 


part  t\)itJi, 

NARRATIVE    OF    MARIE-TH^R^SE    DE    FRANCE, 
DUCHESSE  D'ANGOULfiME. 

First  Uprising  of  the  Populace  on  the  5th  and  6th  of  October,  1789. —    . 
Removal  of  my  Family  to  the  Capital 210 

Flight  of  my  Father;  his  Stoppage  at  Varennes ;  his  Return  to  Paris    216 

Assault  on  the  Tuileries  by  the  Populace,  Jane  20,  1792 230 

Massacre  at  the  Tuileries ;   Dethroueraeut  of  my  Father.  —  The  Days 

from  the  10th  to  the  13th  of  August,  1792 236 

Imprisonment  of  my  Family  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple,  August  13, 
1792,  followed  by  the  Trial  and  Martyrdom  of  my  Fatlier,  January 
21,  1793 243 

r.ife  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple  from  the  Death  of  Louis  XVI.  to  that 

of  the  Queen,  October  16,  1793 259 

Life  in  the  Temple  till  the  ^Lartyrdom  of  Madame  Eli.sabeth  and  the 

Death  of  the  Dauphin,  Louis  XVII.,  June  9,  1795 278 


Brief  sketch  of  the  Life  of  Marie-Thdr^se  until  her  death,  October  18, 

1851 289 

THE  DUCHESSE   D'ANGOULfiME. 
Homage  to  the  Duches.se  d'Angouleme,  by  C.-A.  Sainte-Beuve     .    .     .    295 


CONTENTS.  VU 

APPENDIXES. 

Page 
I.     Moutreuil 311 

II.     First  Examination  of   Madame   Elisabeth  bj  Fouquier-Tiuville, 

May  9,  179-1 313 

III.  Extract  from  the   Deliberations   of  the   Commissioners  of  the 

Commune  on  the  Service  of  the  Temple 317 

IV.  Signs  agreed  upon  to  make  known  to  the  Princesses  the  Progress 

of  the  various  Armies,  etc.;  and  sundry  Communications  from 
Madame  Elisabeth  to  M.  Turgy 318 

V.    Louis  XVI.'s  Seal  and  Ring 323 

INDEX 325 


LIST   OF 
PHOTOGRAVURE    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Madame  Elisabeth  de  France Frontispiece 

By  Mme.  Vigee  Le  Bruu  ;  Portraits  Nationaux. 

Tage 

Madame  Elisabeth  at  Montreuil 20 

By  Richard ;  Versailles. 

Locis  XVI 80 

By  Duplessis;  Versailles. 

The  Princesse  de  Lamballe        122 

By  Mme.  Vigee  Lo  Brun;  MaUres  du  XIX  Siecle. 

The  Dauphin  and  Madame  Royale 182 

By  Mme.  Vigee  Lo  Brun ;  Versailles. 

Madame  Royale,  Duchesse  d'Angouleme 210 

By  Danloux;  Vienna. 

Queen  Marie-Antoinette  leaving  the  Tribunal  after  her 

Condemnation  to  Death        273 

Paul  Delaroche. 

Typogravures. 

Fac-simile  of  a  Fragment  of  Letter  of  Madame  I^Ilisabeth      .       87 

Different  Seals  used  by  Madame  I'Ilisaijeth  and  attached 

to  HEii  Letters 89 

The  Tower  of  the  Temple 125 

Fac-simile  of  Signatures  to  E.vamination  of  Mme.  ^'lisabetii       310 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 


OF 


Madame  Elisabeth  de  France. 


PART  first. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Introductory.  —  Sketch  of  the  Life  of  Madame  Elisabeth  from  her  Child- 
hood until  August  10,  1792. 

Many  records  of  Madame  ^Elisabeth  exist,  but  only  two  of 
real  authority :  the  "  !6loge  historique  de  Mme.  Ellisabeth  de 
France,"  by  Antoine  Ferrand,  minister  of  State  and  peer  of 
France,  first  published  in  1814  and  again  in  1861 ;  and  the 
"  Vie  de  Madame  Ellisabeth,"  by  M.  A.  de  Beauchesne,  Paris, 
1869.  Both  works  contain  a  number  of  her  letters.  From 
these  volumes  the  following  record  has  been  made,  chiefly  in 
their  own  (translated)  words.  The  parts  selected  are  the 
simple  historical  facts  of  Mme.  Elisabeth's  story.  The  other 
parts  may  not  be  false, —  far  be  it  from  us  to  say  they  are, — 
but  they  are  so  romantically  tender  as  to  convey  a  sense  of 
extravagance,  and  thus  do  injury  to  the  noble  figure  which 
the  truth  presents.  For  instance,  it  is  recorded  by  her  biog- 
raphers that  as  her  head  fell  into  the  basket  a  perfume  of 
roses  was  wafted  over  the  Place  Louis  XV.  The  impression 
that  we  of  the  present  day  receive  from  such  a  statement  is 


2  LIFK    AM)    LKTl'KHS   OK  [cnAr.  i. 

of  fully  and    fuUunie    flattery;  yet  the  essential  truth  is  in 

the  simple  facts,  where  the  undying 

actions  of  tlic  just 
Smell  sweet,  and  Mossom  in  the  dust. 

This  record  of  Madame  I^Uisabeth  is  here  followed  by  the 
"  Journal  of  the  Temple,"  written  by  Clery,  the  valet  who  at- 
tended on  Louis  XVI.  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life,  and  by  the 
far  more  valuable  and  even  precious  Narrative  of  that  em- 
bodiment of  sorrow,  ;Marie-Th(5rbse  de  France,  daughter  of 
Louis  XVL  and  Marie-Antoinette,  and  later  Duchesse  d'An- 
gouleme.  There  we  see  the  end  of  the  great  French  mon- 
archy (for  the  restored  kings  were  not  the  monarchy).  No 
one  can  read  this  series  of  Memoirs  —  Saint-Simon,  d'Argen- 
son,  Bernis  —  ■without  realizing  the  causes  of  that  mighty 
fall ;  not  to  be  found  so  much  in  the  career  of  the  Great 
Monarch  as  in  the  lowered  standards  he  left  behind  him, 
the  corruption  of  the  regency,  and  the  long  reign  of  his 
great-grandson's  vice  and  ineptitude  which  consolidated  the 
■wrongs  of  France. 

One  fact  shines  clear  above  this  mass  of  evil ;  and  it  is 
allowable  to  call  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  it  forcibly. 
Beside  the  enervating  depravity  of  the  Regent,  the  personal 
cowardice  and  sloth  of  Louis  XV.,  the  lack  of  firmness  and 
regal  assertion  of  Louis  XVL  and  his  brothers,  stands  the 
splendid  courage,  physical  and  moral,  of  the  three  women 
whose  ends  are  here  recorded. 

£lisabeth-PhLlippine-]\rarie-H(^lfene  de  France,  daughter  of 
the  Dauphin  Louis,  son  of  Louis  XV.,  and  Marie-Josfephe  de 
Saxe,  was  bom  at  Versailles,  May  3,  1764.  Her  three 
brothers,  the  Due  de  Beny,  the  Comte  de  Provence,  and  the 
Comte  d'Artois,  were  taken  to  the  chapel  on  the  same  day, 
immediately  after  the  king's  mass,  to  witness  her  baptism,  at 
■which  v.- ere  present  also  the  king  and  queen,  the  king's  sis- 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  3 

ters  Mesdames  Adelaide,  Victoire,  Sophie,  and  Louise,  the 
Due  d'Oiidans,  the  Due  de  Chartres,  the  Prince  de  Condd, 
the  Prince  and  Princesse  de  Conti,  the  Due  de  Penthievre, 
the  Prince  de  Lamballe,  and  others. 

At  her  birth  Madame  lillisabeth  was  so  delicate  that  for 
months  her  existence  was  a  source  of  continual  anxiety. 
Her  father  died  the  following  year,  and  her  mother,  the  wise 
and  excellent  Dauphine  Marie- Jos^phe,  in  17G7.  The  little 
orphan  was  then  given  wholly  to  the  care  of  the  Comtesse 
de  Marsan  (daughter  of  the  Prince  de  Soubise),  governess  of 
the  Children  of  France,  who  was  already  bringing  up  Elisa- 
beth's sister,  Madame  Clotilde  de  France,  afterwards  Queen 
of  Sardinia,  who  was  four  years  and  eight  months  older  than 
Elisabeth.  The  difference  in  character  and  temper  was 
greater  still.  Clotilde  was  born  with  the  happiest  disposi- 
tion, which  needed  only  to  be  encouraged  and  aided.  Elisa- 
beth was  very  different ;  it  was  often  necessary  to  oppose  her 
nature,  and  always  to  direct  it.  Proud,  inflexible,  passionate, 
she  had  defects  to  be  mastered  which  would  have  been  re- 
grettable in  a  lower  rank ;  in  a  princess  of  royal  blood  they 
were  intolerable.  The  task  of  Mme.  de  Marsan  was  a  diffi- 
cult one.  ]\Iadame  Elisabeth's  self-will  was  powerful,  proud 
of  her  birth,  she  exacted  around  her  supple  instruments  of 
it ;  she  said  she  had  no  need  to  learn  and  tire  herself  use- 
lessly, inasmuch  as  princes  had  about  them  persons  whose 
duty  it  was  to  think  for  thorn.  She  stamped  with  anger  if 
one  of  her  women  did  not  immediately  bring  her  the  thing 
she  asked  for.  The  difference  in  the  characters  of  the 
sisters  made  a  difference  in  the  feelings  of  their  governess 
towards  each.  Jealousy  came  to  increase  the  asperity  of  the 
younger  sister's  nature.  "Tf  Clotilde  liad  asked  you,"  she 
said,  one  day,  when  Mme.  de  Marsan  had  refused  a  request, 
"  she  would  have  had  it." 


4  LIFE    AND    I.ETTF.KS   OK  [cnxp.  i. 

Uut  fUisnbelh  was  taken  ill,  and  (lulilJe  insisted  on  takijig 
nre  of  her.  This  illness  developed  between  them  feelings 
of  the  tenderost  affection;  Clotilde  taught  her  little  sister 
the  alphabet  and  how  to  spell  and  form  words,  she  gave  her 
little  counsels  which  tended  to  soften  her  character,  and  she 
inculcated  in  her  the  first  notions  of  religion  with  which  she 
was  already  nourishing  her  own  soul. 

Still,  Mme.  de  Marsan  felt  the  want  of  aid  in  seconding 
the  reform  in  the  child's  nature  which  she  had  so  much 
at  heart  to  bring  about,  and  she  cast  her  eyes  on  Mme.  de 
Mackau,  whose  husband  had  been  minister  of  the  king  at 
Ratisbon.  This  lady  was  educated  at  Saint-Cyr,  an  estab- 
lishment which  kept  notes  of  not  only  the  character  and 
merits  of  its  pupils,  but  followed  their  careers  in  the  world 
for  which  it  had  formed  them.  It  was  from  information 
thus  derived  that  ]\Ime.  de  Marsan  asked  the  king  to  appoint 
Mme.  de  Mackau,  who  was  living  in  retirement  in  Alsace, 
as  sub-governess.  This  choice  proved  to  have  all  the  ele- 
ments required  to  work  a  happy  change  in  the  nature  of  a 
self-willed  and  haughty  child.  Mme.  de  Mackau  possessed 
a  firmness  to  which  resistance  yielded,  and  an  affectionate 
kindness  which  enticed  attachment.  Armed  with  almost 
maternal  power,  she  brought  up  the  Children  of  France  as 
she  would  have  trained  her  own  children ;  overlooking  no 
fault ;  knowing,  if  need  were,  how  to  make  herself  feared ; 
all  the  while  leading  them  to  like  virtue.  To  a  superior 
mind  she  added  a  dignity  of  tone  and  manners  which  in- 
spired respect.  "Wlien  her  pupil  gave  way  to  the  fits  of 
haughty  temper  to  which  she  was  subject,  Mme.  de  Mackau 
showed  on  her  countenance  a  displeased  gravity,  as  if  to  re- 
mind her  that  princes,  like  other  persons,  could  not  be  liked 
except  for  their  virtues  and  their  good  qualities.  Distressed 
and  disconcerted  by  this  sudden  and  unexpected   change, 


1792]  MADAME   ifeLISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  5 

Elisabeth,  whose  nature  it  was  to  be  unable  to  feign  or  to 
hide  whatever  was  passing  in  her  soul,  gave  in  this  way  a 
great  advantage  to  her  governess,  quick  to  profit  by  the 
knowledge  she  thus  gained  of  the  child's  inner  feelings. 

Little  by  little,  Elisabeth  yielded  to  wise  and  friendly 
management,  and  the  defects  which  retarded  her  progress 
and  prevented  her  from  getting  the  advantages  of  her  educa- 
tion gradually  effaced  themselves.  Her  wise  governesses 
neglected  nothing  that  could  form  her  mind ;  they  ac- 
customed her  to  discuss  questions  with  ease  and  without 
pedantry ;  to  pose  an  argument  properly,  to  examine  it  with 
discernment,  and  to  bring  logic  to  bear  upon  it  and  solve  it. 
As  all  progress  is  accomplished  only  by  degrees,  the  young 
princess  continued  for  some  time  to  commit  her  early  faults. 
On  such  occasions,  becoming  more  and  more  rare,  she  met  a 
stern  look,  a  stiff  manner ;  and  that  simple  show  of  displeas- 
ure was  an  efficacious  correction.  The  proud  and  violent 
qualities  changed,  little  by  little,  into  firmness  of  principles, 
into  a  nobility  and  energy  of  feeling  which  made  her  in  after 
years  superior  to  the  trials  that  filled  her  life. 

Deprived  of  her  parents  and  of  the  tenderest  emotions  of 
nature,  her  heart  turned  to  fraternal  love,  which  became  from 
childliood  her  dominant  passion.  She  cherished  her  three 
brothers,  but  a  sort  of  predilection  drew  her  to  the  Due  de 
Berry,  the  Dauphin.  Was  it  that  she  already  felt  he  would 
be  unhappy  because  he  was  fated  to  be  king  ?  This  tender- 
ness of  heart,  which  had  so  far  served  to  correct  Elisal)elh's 
defects,  was  destined  to  be  the  the  source  of  her  consolation, 
her  courage,  her  sorrows,  and  her  devotion. 

About  this  time,  on  certain  days,  when  serious  study  was 
over,  a  few  young  ladies  of  merit,  of  religious  principles  and 
good  education,  were  admitted  to  the  privacy  of  the  young 
princesses.     It  was  a  circle  created  to  utilize  their  leisure 


6  I.IFK    AM)    MllTKHS    OK  [riivr.   i. 

as  well  fts  to  nnnise  it,  to  form  thcin  to  llie  customs  of  the 
\vi>rlil,  to  toat^h  them  to  oxprcsa  tlioir  ideas  witli  grace  and 
concision,  to  jiulge  of  tilings  willi  accuracy,  and  state  their 
judgments  clearly.  These  meetings  had  the  precious  advan- 
tage of  being  recreations  which,  \inder  yo\ithf\il  gaycly  and 
IK-rfect  modesty,  initialcil  them  unconsciously  in  tliat  divin- 
ing tact,  that  knowledge  of  tlie  world,  so  dillicult  to  ac([uire, 
whicli  consists  in  discerning  at  first  sight  the  value  of  indi- 
viduals, in  estimating  the  nature  and  dominant  spirit  of  each 
society  under  whatever  form  it  presents  itself :  in  short,  the 
tact  of  sagacity,  wliich  became  in  the  end  so  trained  in  fllisa- 
beth  that  she  was  rarely  mistaken  in  the  opinion  she 
formed  of  persons  or  of  the  spirit  of  the  society  in  which  she 
found  herself.  Madame  Elisabeth  seldom  amused  herself 
with  frivolous  talk,  she  was  never  really  interested  in  a  con- 
versation unless  there  was  something  to  gain  from  it.  Time 
was  precious  to  her. 

The  Abb^  de  Montt^gut,  canon  of  Chartres,  who  was  ap- 
pointed, in  1774,  tutor  to  the  Children  of  France,  contributed 
to  develop  in  IMadame  Elisabeth  the  religious  sentiments 
which  never  left  her  in  after  life.  He  explained  to  her 
the  Gospels  as  being  both  the  school  of  duty  and  the 
source  of  consolations.  She  ap[>lied  herself  to  their  study 
with  a  penetration  above  her  age.  One  might  almost  say 
that  a  secret  inspiration  warned  her  that  she  was  destined  to 
find  there  the  best  and  first  of  knowledge.  As  her  intelli- 
gence developed,  those  two  jtrecepts  became  deeply  rooted 
in  her.  Religion  seemed  to  her  a  chain  of  duties  and  conso- 
lations, the  first  link  of  which,  attached  in  heaven,  was  ever 
drawing  humanity  towards  its  origin  and  its  completion. 

Mme.  de  Marsan,  on  her  side,  took  her  often  to  Saint-Cyr. 
That  royal  establishment,  which  bore  the  imprint  of  a 
saintly  and  majestic  thought,  awakened  all  the  sympathies 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  7 

of  the  young   girl,  who   never   left   it   without  regret  and 
promises  to  return. 

Louis  XV.  died  on  the  10th  of  May,  1774,  when  Elisa- 
beth was  ten  years  old,  and  the  Due  de  Berry,  tlie  Dauphin 
and  his  wife,  Marie-Antoinette,  became  King  and  Queen 
of  France ;  the  first  nineteen  years  of  age,  the  second 
a  year  younger.  That  year  and  the  next  were  passed 
by  the  young  princesses  in  their  secluded  school  life,  but 
always  accompanying  the  Court,  whether  at  Versailles,  Fon- 
tainebleau,  Marly,  Compifegue,  or  La  Muette.  The  following, 
year  Madame  Elisabeth  was  confirmed  and  made  her  first 
communion,  and  the  sisters  were  parted  by  the  marriage  of 
Clotilde  to  the  Prince  of  Piedmont,  afterwards  King  of  Sar- 
dinia. No  sensation  of  sorrow  had  as  yet  affected  Elisabeth's 
heart ;  her  sister's  departure  was  her  first  experience  of  it, 
and  when  the  moment  of  separation  came,  she  clung  to  her 
with  such  force  that  they  were  obliged  to  tear  them  apart. 
Queen  Marie-Antoinette,  writing  a  few  days  later  to  her 
mother,  the  empress,  says  :  — 

"  My  sister  Elisabeth  is  a  charming  child,  who  has  intelli- 
gence, character,  and  much  grace ;  she  showed  the  greatest 
feeling,  and  much  above  her  age,  at  the  departure  of  her 
sister.  The  poor  little  girl  was  in  despair,  and  as  her  health 
is  very  delicate,  she  was  taken  ill  and  had  a  very  severe 
nervous  attack.  I  own  to  my  dear  mamma  tliat  I  fear  I  am 
getting  too  attached  U)  her,  feeling,  from  the  exanjple  of  my 
aunts,  how  essential  it  is  for  her  happiness  not  to  remain  an 
old  maid  in  this  country." 

It  was  on  the  12ih  of  iMay,  1776,  that  Turgot  and  Male- 
sherbes,  the  two  ministers  whom  the  philosophical  party,  the 
"  party  of  progress,"  had  brought  into  power  to  effect  reforms 
at  the  beginning  of  the  new  reign,  quitted  their  mini.str}\ 
"  Ah  ! "  cried  Louis  XVI.,  as  Malesherbes  asked  him  to  accept 


8  LIFK    AND    LKTIKKS   OF  [cuap.  i. 

his  rcsigualion  :  "  Imw  fortunate  you  are  !  wouKl  that  1  could 
get  away  also!"  h  would  take  too  long  here  to  enter  into 
public  details  which  have  not  as  yet  a  close  ctjnnection  with 
the  life  of  ^ladame  Elisabeth ;  sutlice  it  to  say  briefly,  that 
all  efforts  at  reform  on  the  part  of  these  ministers  and  the 
young  monarch  miscarried.  The  king's  edicts  which  sup- 
pressed the  corirc  (forced  labour)  and  abolished  corporations 
and  their  privilege,  were  bitterly  opposed  in  parliament ;  and 
it  required  a  lit  de  justice  to  enforce  their  registration.  All 
attempts  to  reform  the  army  made  by  the  Comte  de  Saint- 
Germain,  minister  of  war,  and  his  auxiliary,  M.  de  Guibert,^ 
also  failed.  With  singular  unwisdom  they  contrived  to  dis- 
please the  officers  and  discontent  the  troops  at  the  very 
moment  when  it  was  so  necessary  to  be  able  to  count  upon 
the  in^dolable  fidelity  of  the  army. 

Nothing,  therefore,  of  all  that  was  attempted  succeeded 
well,  and  Louis  XVI.  began  the  second  portion  of  his  reign 
with  vanished  illusions  and  fears  for  the  future. 

On  the  17th  of  May,  1778,  the  Court  went  to  Marly.  The 
king  having  determined  to  give  his  sister  an  establishment, 
she  was  on  that  day  resigned  into  his  hands  by  her  then 
governess,  the  Princesse  de  Gu^ni^u^e,  and  His  Majesty 
gave  her  the  Comtesse  Diane  de  Polignac  as  lady  of  honour, 
with  the  Marquise  de  S^rent  as  lady-in-waiting.  From  that 
moment  there  was  question  of  her  marriage.  Her  hand 
seemed,  in  the  first  instance,  destined  to  the  Infant  of 
Portugal,  Prince  of  Brazil,  who  was  the  same  age  as  herself 
and  would  eventually  have  brought  her  the  title  of  queen. 
AMiile  she  saw  the  conveniences  of  this  alliance,  Madame 
Elisabeth  was  far  from  wishing  it,  and  though  she  personally- 
put  no  obstacle  in  the  w'ay,  she  was  comforted  on  learning 
that  the  negotiations  were  broken  off. 

1  The  lover  of  Mile,  de  Lespinasse.  —  Te. 


1792]  MADAME   ifcLISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  9 

Shortly  after,  two  other  princes  sought  the  honour  of 
obtaining  her  hand.  One  was  the  Duke  of  Aosta,  who  was 
five  years  older  than  herself  and  could  give  her,  in  a  neigh- 
bouring and  friendly  Court,  a  place  on  the  steps  of  a  throne 
beside  her  sister  Clotilde;  but  the  political  pride  of  the 
government  asserted  that  a  secondary  place  at  the  Court  of 
Sardinia  was  not  becoming  to  a  Daughter  of  France.  Her 
third  suitor  was  the  Emperor  Joseph  II.,  brother  of  Marie- 
Antoinette,  who  on  the  occasion  of  his  journey  to  France  the 
preceding  year  had  been  struck  by  the  vivacity  of  her  mind 
and  the  sweetness  of  her  nature.  But  the  anti-Austrian 
party,  which  by  that  time  (1783)  prevailed  at  Court,  where 
it  had  already  sown  around  the  queen  distrust  and  hatreds, 
dreaded  an  alliance  which  might  be  contrary  to  its  ascen- 
dancy, and  set  to  work  to  prevent  it.  The  intrigue  succeeded. 
It  was  said,  without  grounds,  that  Madame  Elisabeth  felt 
some  regret  at  this  conclusion.  The  emperor  had  not  yet 
shown  in  politics  the  eccentricities  of  his  mind,  and  he  had 
just  lost  a  wife  whose  youth,  virtues,  and  piety  had  won  the 
love  and  benedictions  of  a  whole  people.^  But  Madame 
Elisabeth,  altliough  she  assuredly  possessed  all  the  qualities 
that  fitted  her  for  such  an  inheritance,  seemed  to  attach  no 
greater  value  to  this  union  than  to  the  other  marriages  with 
which  policy  had  interfered. 

As  time  went  on,  Madame  Elisabeth  strengthened  herself 
perceptibly  against  the  dangers  of  her  nature,  her  age,  and 
the  Court ;  she  felt  more  and  more  what  was  lacking  in  her. 
Her  efforts  increased  from  her  self-distrust,  and  the  more  she 
acquired  higher  qualities  the  less  she  knew  herself  capable 
of  the  perfection  she  sought  to  attain.     It  was  this  feeling 

1  She  was  the  daughter  of  Madame  Infanta  Ducliess  of  Parma,  oldest 
twin  daughter  of  Louis  XV.,  consequently  the  first  cousin  of  Madame 
:felisabeth.  —  Tk. 


10  l.n-'K    AM)    Ll/riKKS    OK  [iiiAi-.  I. 

of  luuiiility  which  gave  to  her  speech  an  ex(|uisite  resLiaint, 
to  her  actions  a  prudent  reserve,  and  to  her  charity  a  wise 
discri'lion. 

All  the  yovmg  ghls  wlu)  had  been  brought  in  contact  with 
Madame  Elisabeth  or  had  grown  up  with  her,  sharing  her 
studies  and  her  pleasures,  gave  her  a  warm  and  sincere  de- 
votion ;  to  them  she  was  not  the  prmcess  but  the  friend. 
"  How  lovable  you  are,  my  heart,"  she  says  in  one  place, 
"  to  wish  to  forget  that  I  am  princess ;  nothing  could  give 
me  greatei  pleasure  than  to  forget  it  myself;  I  say  it  as  I 
think  it.  Friendship,  you  see,  my  Bombelles,  is  a  second 
life,  which  sustains  us  in  this  low  world." 

Among  these  young  girls  were  two  or  three  whom  her 
heart  distinguished  specially,  and  wdth  them  she  corre- 
sponded steadily  to  the  last  of  her  living  life.  One  was 
Mile,  de  Mackau,  the  daughter  of  the  lady  to  whom  she 
owed  so  much,  who  was  early  married  to  the  Marquis  de 
Bombelles,  then  ambassador  to  Portugal,  and  at  the  time  of 
the  Eevolution  ambassador  to  Venice.  Another  was  Mile. 
Marie  de  Causans,  third  daughter  of  the  Marquise  de 
Causans,  who  was  appointed  by  the  king,  at  the  time 
^ladame  l^]lisabeth's  establishment  was  formed,  as  lady  of 
honour  and  superintendent  of  his  sister's  household.  Her 
second  daughter,  Virginie,  was  chanoinesse  at  Metz,  who  spent 
the  months  of  her  vacation  in  Madame  Elisabeth's  establish- 
ment. The  love  between  them  became  so  strong  that  the 
princess  dreading  the  moment  of  the  young  girl's  return  to 
her  Chapter  endeavoured  to  make  her  one  of  her  own  ladies- 
in-waiting  ;  but  the  Marquise  de  Causans,  although  a  widow 
of  small  means  and  a  large  family,  made  it  a  principle  that 
none  of  her  four  daughters  should  hold  office  at  Court  unless 
she  was  married,  and  she  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  Madame  Elis- 
abeth's entreaties.     Then  a  thought  came  to  the  princess; 

1  JMein.  VtT.  9 


1792]  MADAME   ifeLISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  11 

she  went  one  morning  to  the  queen  and  said  in  her  coaxing, 
gentle  way :  "  Promise  to  grant  me  what  I  am  going  to  ask 
of  you."  The  queen,  before  promising,  wished  to  know  the 
request,  and  a  playful  battle  ensued.  Finally  Madame  Elisa- 
beth yielded  and  said :  "  I  want  to  give  Causans  a  dot ;  ask 
the  king  to  advance  me  for  five  years  the  thirty  thousand 
francs  he  always  gives  me  as  a  New  Year's  gift."  The 
queen  very  willingly  took  charge  of  the  commission,  and 
the  king  as  willingly  gi-anted  the  request.  The  Marquis 
de  Eaigecourt  presented  himself  as  a  husband,  and  Louis 
XVI.  appointed  the  young  wife  as  lady-in-waiting  to  his 
sister.  Her  joy  knew  no  bounds.  For  five  years  she 
received  no  presents,  and  when  the  matter  was  mentioned 
she  would  say,  "  I  have  no  presents  yet,  but  I  have  my 
Eaigecourt."  The  fifth  year  expired  in  1789,  but  by  that 
time  public  difficulties  intervened,  and  the  custom  of  years 
was  given  up. 

A  brother  of  Mme.  de  Eaigecourt,  the  Marquis  de  Causans, 
a  member  of  the  States  General,  was  also  a  friend  of  Madame 
Elisabeth,  who  kept  up  a  close  correspondence  with  him  on 
the  events  of  the  time.  Her  letters  were  said  by  him  to 
contain  very  just  and  lofty  conceptions  on  passing  events, 
and  especially  on  what  was  taking  place  in  the  Assembly. 
That  collection  of  letters,  in  which  the  energy  of  her  spirit 
and  the  penetration  of  her  views  were  visible,  it  is  said, 
on  every  page,  was  confided  by  the  Marquis  de  Causans,  at 
the  time  he  was  compelled  to  emigrate,  to  hands  which  he 
had  every  reason  to  consider  peculiarly  safe ;  but  it  disap- 
peared in  one  of  those  cataclysms  of  which  the  revolutionary 
tornado  produced  so  many  examples. 

Madame  Elisabeth's  letters  to  Mme.  de  Bombellos  and 

Mme.  de  Eaigecourt,  while  somewhat  cautious  as  to  ])ublic 

affairs,  nevertheless  express,  as  we  shall  see  later,  a  sound 
2  Mem.  Vcr.  9 


12  LIFK   AND    LETTKKS   OF  [cuxf.  i. 

aiid  independent  judgment  i»n  principles  and  passing  events, 
and  are  the  (.»nly  personal  revelatiun  of  her  heart  and  mind 
which  we  possess  before  the  black  pall  drops  forever,  on  the 
10th  of  August,  1792,  between  the  family  in  the  Tem]>le  and 
the  world. 

The  domestic  happiness  which  Madame  Elisabeth  now 
began  to  enjoy  in  her  own  little  circle  seems  to  have 
reigned  in  the  palace  of  Versailles  as  well.  Never  before 
did  the  Court  of  France  present  such  a  sight :  a  young 
queen  living  in  perfect  harmony  with  two  sisters-in-law  of 
her  own  age,  and  a  young  king  liking  to  lean  on  the  friend- 
ship of  his  two  brothers.  "  The  greatest  intimacy,"  says 
Mme.  Campan,  "  existed  between  the  three  households  [that 
of  the  king,  that  of  Monsieur,  the  Comte  de  Provence,  and 
that  of  the  Comte  d'Artois],  "  They  met  together  at  meals, 
and  ate  apart  only  when  their  dinners  were  in  public.  This 
manner  of  family  living  lasted  until  the  time  when  the 
queen  allowed  herself  to  dine  occasionally  with  the  Du- 
chesse  de  Polignac,  but  the  evening  meeting  for  supper  was 
never  interrupted,  and  it  took  place  always  in  the  apartments 
of  the  Comtesse  de  Provence.  Madame  Elisabeth  took  her 
place  there  as  soon  as  she  had  finished  her  education,  and 
sometimes  Mesdames,  the  king's  aunts,  were  invited.  This 
family  intimacy,  which  had  no  precedent  at  Court,  was  the 
work  of  Queen  Marie-Antoinette,  and  she  maintained  it 
with  great  perseverance." 

The  interests  and  pleasures  of  a  young  Court  nevertheless 
gave  rise  to  intrigues  which  at  times  divided  the  members 
of  the  royal  family.  The  king  and  his  brothers  were  each  of 
different  natures.  Louis  XYI.,  who  possessed  the  virtues 
of  an  honest  man,  was  far  from  having  all  those  which  are 
required  in  a  king.  His  self-distrust  was  extreme.  ^Tiile 
he  was  still  dauphin,  if  a  question  arose  that  was  difficult 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  13 

to  decide,  "Ask  my  brother  of  Provence  about  that,"  he 
would  say.  Trustful  in  others,  he  surrendered  his  own  will 
readily ;  but  if  he  discovered  that  any  one  deceived  him  he 
flew  into  fits  of  passion.  He  had  neither  firmness  of  char- 
acter nor  grace  of  manner.  Like  certain  excellent  fruits 
with  a  knotty  rind,  his  exterior  was  rough,  but  the  heart 
perfect.  Stern  to  himself  alone,  he  kept  the  laws  of  the 
Church  rigorously,  abstained  and  fasted  during  the  forty 
Lenten  days,  but  thought  it  right  that  the  queen  should  not 
imitate  him.  Sincerely  pious,  but  trained  to  tolerance  by 
the  influence  of  the  century  in  which  he  lived,  he  was  also 
disposed,  too  disposed  perhaps,  to  yield  the  prerogatives  of 
the  throne  whenever  the  interests  of  his  people  were  alleged 
to  him ;  forgetting  that  one  of  the  first  interests  of  a  nation 
is  the  maintenance  of  a  strong  and  incontestable  power. 
A  weak  royalty  is  impotent  both  to  do  good  and  to  prevent 
evil. 

There  was  in  Louis  XVI.  something  honest  which  did  not 
accept  complete  liability  {solidaritc)  for  the  preceding  reign ; 
but,  heir  of  a  regime  of  which  he  bore  the  weight,  he  was  ill 
at  ease  between  a  past  which  roused  repugnance  and  a 
future,  not  threatenmg  as  yet,  but  full  of  doubts  and  mys- 
tery. Simple,  economical,  liking  to  read  and  study,  seeking 
to  forget  his  throne  in  the  exercise  of  hunting  or  of  manual 
labour,  detesting  women  without  virtue  and  men  without  con- 
science, he  seems  a  stranger  in  his  own  Court,  where  morals 
were  light  and  consciences  easy.  A  young  king,  given  to 
moderation  and  faithful  to  duty,  regarding  himself  as  the 
father  of  all  Frenchmen,  but  especially  drawn  to  those  who 
were  weakest,  could  not  be  appreciated  by  courtiers,  men  for 
the  most  part  frivolous  and  in  debt,  corrupters  or  con-upted, 
who  regarded  innovations  as  a  danger  and  reforms  as  a  crime. 

The  Comte  de  Provence,  whose  intellect  and  education 


14  MKK    AND    LiyPTKHS   OF  [ciiAr.  t. 

woro  on  a  \k\v,  concoalod  lu'iicalh  a  piuckMil  digiiily  his  re- 
gret  at  not  being  put  by  fate  in  the  lirst  rank.  Versed  in  the 
culture  of  letters,  aided  by  a  wonderful  memory,  he  felt  him- 
self, in  a  literary  aspeet,  to  be  far  superior  to  the  king  his 
brother.  This  sentiment  was  born  in  him  from  childhood. 
One  day  the  Due  de  Beiry,  playing  with  his  brothers,  used  ' 
the  expression  il  pleura.  "  What  a  barbarism  !  "  cried  the 
Comte  de  Provence,  "  a  prince  ought  to  know  his  own 
tongue."     "  And  you  ought  to  hold  yours,"  retorted  the  elder. 

Monsieur  took  pleasure  in  the  society  of  men  of  letters ;  he 
endeavoured  to  explain  to  himself  the  source  and  inspiration 
of  the  new  ideas  that  rose  on  the  horizon,  he  prepared  him- 
self for  events  that  he  might  not  be  surprised  by  them ;  he 
temporized  with  parties  and  united  with  none ;  he  lived  with 
his  brothers  without  dissensions  and  without  confidence ;  he 
toyed  with  opinion  coldly ;  and  when  the  day  came  that  un- 
fortimate  arrangements  made  the  king's  departure  a  failure 
at  Varennes,  he  cleverly  kept  out  of  danger  and  reserved 
himself  for  the  future. 

The  Comte  d'Artois  was  a  type  of  the  Frenchman  of  the 
olden  time  ;  careless  in  temperament,  gay  in  mind,  and  with 
all  the  chivalrous  graces.  Well  made,  choice  in  his  toilet, 
adroit  at  all  exercises  of  the  body,  he  never  appreciated 
grandeur  except  for  the  advantages  it  gave  him,  nor  fortune 
except  for  the  pleasures  it  procures.  The  manner  in  which 
he  regarded  women  followed  him  even  into  the  sanctuary. 
"  Monseigneur,"  said  the  Bishop  of  Limoges  on  one  occasion, 
"  I  have  a  favour  to  ask  of  your  Royal  Highness, —  it  is  that 
you  will  not  come  to  mass."  Born  Ln  a  frivolous  and  vo- 
luptuous Court,  he  took  the  habits  of  it;  but  his  heart  was 
generous,  and  that  quality  survived  exile,  a  throne,  and 
disaster. 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  around  three  such  princes  men  of 


1792]  MADAME   ifeLISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  15 

different  morals  and  ideas  grouped  themselves ;  honest  men 
were  near  Louis  XVI.,  politicians  near  the  Comte  de  Pro- 
vence, the  frivolous  and  volatile  near  the  Comte  d'Artois. 
Thus  the  friends  of  the  king  were  few,  those  of  Monsieur 
numerous,  those  of  the  Comte  d'Artois  innumerable.  The 
last  had  the  pretension  to  think  themselves  directly  under 
the  patronage  of  the  queen,  who,  lively  and  brilliant,  wanted 
the  pleasures  of  her  age  and  took  delight  in  the  Comte  d'Ar- 
tois, who  amused  her  and  whose  tastes  were  somewhat  like 
her  own.  The  jealous  and  malignant  spirit  of  a  swarm  of 
courtiers  endeavoured  to  make  a  crime  of  the  queen's  liking 
for  the  gay  young  brother-in-law,  but  they  have  not  suc- 
ceeded, to  the  eyes  of  history,  in  poisoning  amusements  wit- 
nessed by  the  whole  Com't,  not  to  speak  of  the  Comtesse 
d'Artois,  whose  affection  for  the  queen  remained  unchanged. 

Such  was  the  interior  of  the  palace  of  Versailles  during 
the  years  which  preceded  the  Eevolution.  The  princes  and 
princesses  of  the  blood  seldom  appeared  there ;  their  tastes 
and  habits  were  different.  "  Of  the  three  branches  of  the 
House  of  Bourbon,"  said  the  old  Mar^chal  de  Eichelieu,  one 
day,  "  each  has  a  ruling  and  pronounced  taste :  the  eldest 
loves  hunting ;  the  Orleans  love  pictures ;  the  Cond^s  love 
war."  "  And  Louis  XVI.,"  some  one  asked,  "  what  does  he 
love  ? "     "  Oh,  he  is  different,  he  loves  the  people." 

Except  on  occasions  of  formal  etiquette,  the  absence  from 
Court  of  the  princes  of  the  blood  was  noticeable.  Exception 
must  be  made,  however,  of  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe,  whose 
functions,  as  superintendent  of  the  queen's  household  and 
her  affection  for  the  queen  herself,  kept  her  always  at  Court. 
The  princes  of  the  blood,  whom  the  quarrels  with  parliament 
had  tlnown  into  tlie  Opposition,  considered  it  advisable  to 
add  to  the  privileges  of  thtnr  birth  the  advantages  of  popu- 
larity obtained  by  the  so-called  independence  of  their  opiu- 


16  LIKK   AM)    LKTTKUS   OF  [cnAr.  i. 

ions.  The  time  was  coming  when  the  great  House  of  Bourbon 
was  to  weaken  and  condemn  itself  to  impotence  by  the  fall- 
ing apart  of  its  sheaves. 

Madame  FUisabeth  was  now,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  to  find 
herself  mistress  of  her  actions,  surrounded  by  the  splendours 
of  fortime,  inNited  to  share  all  pleasures,  and  observed  by 
ever)'  eye.  What  is  libert}-  at  that  age  if  not  release  from 
study,  amusement,  toilet,  jewels,  and  fetes  ?  Such  was  not 
the  programme  of  the  king's  young  sister.  Her  conscience 
took  upon  itself  the  duty  of  exercising  the  same  control  and 
watchfulness  over  her  conduct  that  her  governesses  had  just 
laid  down.  "  My  education  is  not  finished,"  she  said ;  "  I 
shall  continue  it  under  the  same  rules;  I  shall  keep  my 
masters,  and  the  same  hours  will  be  given  to  religion,  the 
study  of  languages,  belles-lettres,  instructive  conversations, 
and  to  my  walks  and  rides  on  horseback."  And  she  kept 
to  all  that  she  thus  planned. 

Her  appearance  at  this  time  has  been  described  and  painted, 
although  she  herself  had  a  great  repugnance  to  sitting  for  her 
picture.  Her  figure  was  not  tall,  neither  had  her  bearing  that 
majesty  which  was  so  much  admired  in  the  queen ;  her  nose 
had  the  shape  which  is  characteristic  of  the  Bourbon  face ; 
but  her  forehead  with  its  pure  lines  giving  to  her  counte- 
nance its  marked  character  of  nobleness  and  candour,  her 
dark  blue  eyes  with  their  penetrating  sweetness,  her  mouth 
with  its  smile  that  showed  her  pretty  teeth,  and  the  expres- 
sion of  intelligence  and  goodness  that  pervaded  her  whole 
person  formed  a  charming  and  sympathetic  xjresence. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  she  began  to  reflect  on  public 
affairs,  and  her  first  strong  interest  was  in  America.  In  spite 
of  many  ditficulties,  Louis  XVI.  had  succeeded  in  mak- 
ing certain  useful  reforms  in  the  interior  of  the  kingdom. 
He  abolished  the  corvee,  substituting  for  it  taxes  in  money ; 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  17 

he  created  in  Paris  the  Mont-de-Pict^  (pawn  or  loan  shops) 
and  the  Caisse  d'Escompte ;  he  also  calmed  the  public  fear  of 
bankruptcy  by  securing  the  payment  of  the  Funds  (rentes) 
on  the  H6tel-de-Ville.  The  first  political  event  of  his  reign 
was  the  war  of  independence  in  America.  By  an  act  recently 
put  forth,  the  English  Parliament  declared  it  "  had  the  right 
to  force  the  colonies  to  obey  all  its  laws  and  in  all  cases." 
It  was  this  act,  the  execution  of  which  destroyed  the  very 
shadow  of  freedom,  which  produced  the  American  Kevolution, 

The  representatives  of  the  future  United  States  assembled 
and  by  a  solemn  act  declared  the  inhabitants  of  the  colonies 
free  and  independent  and  released  from  all  relations  with 
England.  This  Congress  called  religion  to  the  support  of  the 
dawning  liberty,  and  placed  America  beneath  the  immediate 
protection  of  Providence.  That  august  dedication  was  made 
with  great  ceremony:  a  crown,  consecrated  to  God,  was 
placed  upon  the  Bible  ;  and  that  crown  was  then  divided 
into  thirteen  parts  for  the  deputies  of  the  thirteen  prov- 
inces, and  medals  were  struck  to  commemorate  this  event. 
All  the  women  of  the  country,  at  their  head  the  wife  of 
Washington,  made  themselves  remarkable  for  their  patriotic 
zeal ;  acts  of  an  ancient  chivalry  and  heroism  signalized  this 
memorable  war,  the  reading  of  which  wrung  tears  of  ad- 
miration and  enthusiasm  from  Madame  Elisabeth. 

We  cannot  enter  into  the  details  of  the  great  events  that 
follow.  Our  troops  were  fortunate  in  this  war  as  auxiliaries ; 
America  threw  off  the  British  yoke  and  secured  her  inde- 
pendence, but  our  navy  and  that  of  Spain,  our  ally,  suffered 
cruelly.  This  war,  although  it  was,  like  all  war,  contrary  to 
the  feelings  of  humanity  in  Madame  Elisabeth,  nevertheless 
flattered  her  national  pride,  and  made  the  sacrifices  which 
ended  in  her  brother's  glory  and  that  of  the  nation  less  pain- 
ful to  bear.     But  what  she  especially  noted  with  warm  satis- 


18  LIFK    AND    LKITKUS   OF  [rn.M-.  j. 

faction  throughout  the  struggle  was  the  generous  spirit  that 
ruled  it  ami  sometimes  lessened  its  evils.  Thus  she  read 
with  pleasure  in  a  report,  addressed  November  26,  1781,  to 
iho  minister  of  the  nav)-,  by  the  Marquis  de  Bouill^,  then 
gt)vernor  of  Martinicjue,  that  the  Frencli  troops  under  his 
orders  had,  on  seizing  the  island  of  Saint-Eustache,  shown 
a  spirit  of  justice  and  loyalty  equal  to  their  patience  and 
courage. 

"  I  found  in  the  government  house,"  writes  M.  de  Bouill^, 
"  the  sum  of  a  million  sterling  which  was  in  sequestration, 
awaiting  a  decision  of  the  court  of  London,  It  belonged  to 
the  Dutch ;  and  I  made  it  over  to  them  after  obtaining 
authentic  proofs  of  their  ownership." 

And  again,  in  another  report  to  the  minister  of  the  navy, 
Captain  de  la  P^rouse,  commanding  a  squadron  of  the  king, 
writing  on  board  the  "  Sceptre  "  in  the  Hudson  straits,  Sep- 
tember 6,  1782,  says  :  — 

"  I  took  care,  when  burning  the  fort  at  York,  to  leave  a 
rather  considerable  storehouse  at  a  distance  from  the  fire, 
in  which  I  deposited  provisions,  powder,  shot,  guns,  and  a 
certain  quantity  of  European  merchandise,  such  as  was  suit- 
able to  exchange  with  savages,  in  order  that  the  English, 
who  I  know  have  taken  refuge  in  the  woods,  may  find,  on 
their  return  to  their  old  quarters,  enough  for  their  subsis- 
tence until  the  English  authorities  have  been  informed  of 
their  situation.  I  feel  certain  that  the  king  v^rill  approve  my 
conduct  in  this  respect,  and  that  in  thus  providing  for  those 
unfortunates  I  have  only  forestalled  the  benevolent  inten- 
tions of  HLs  Majesty."  Such  facts  as  these  were  collected 
and  told  by  Madame  lElisabeth  with  delight. 

In  the  year  1781  the  king  bought  the  property  of  the 
Princesse  de  Gu^m^n^e,  at  Montreuil,  which  the  wreck  of  her 
husband's  fortunes  did  not  allow  her  to  retain.     He  asked 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  19 

the  queen,  to  whom  he  had  confided  his  project,  to  invite 
Elisabeth  to  go  to  Montreuil  when  they  next  drove  out  to- 
gether, and  take  her  (with  a  purpose)  into  the  house  of 
her  former  governess,  of  which  he  knew  his  sister  was  very 
fond.  Delighted  with  the  surprise  she  was  to  give  to  the 
yoimg  girl,  Marie-Antoinette  gave  the  invitation :  "  If  you 
like,"  she  said,  "  we  will  stop  on  our  way  at  Montreuil,  where 
you  were  so  fond  of  going  when  a  child."  ^Elisabeth  replied 
that  it  would  be  a  great  pleasure.  On  arriving,  they  found 
everything  arranged  to  receive  them,  and  as  soon  as  they  had 
entered  the  salon  the  queen  said :  "  Sister,  you  are  in  your 
own  house.  This  is  to  be  your  Trianon.  The  king,  who 
gives  himself  the  pleasure  of  giving  it  to  you,  gives  me  the 
pleasure  of  telling  you." 

The  brotherly  inspiration  of  Louis  XVI.  was  not  at  fault. 
This  gift  became  to  Madame  Elisabeth  a  source  of  infinite 
enjoyment ;  for  from  this  moment  she  was  able  to  associate 
her  dearest  friends  familiarly  with  her  daily  existence,  and 
escape  from  the  pomps  of  Court  whenever  her  duty  did  not 
require  her  presence  there.  Madame  l^lisabeth  was  born  for 
private  intimacy ;  lively,  confiding,  and  expansive  in  her 
familiar  circle  of  a  few  friends,  she  was  timid,  reserved, 
and  even  embarrassed,  not  only  in  the  queen's  salons,  but  in 
her  own,  surrounded  by  all  her  ladies.  It  was  therefore  to 
her  a  source  of  the  keenest  enjoyment,  or  rather  of  happi- 
ness, to  have  this  private  home  of  her  own  with  its  rural 
delights. 

The  park  and  mansion,  of  which  she  now  took  possession, 
was  near  the  barrier  at  the  entrance  to  Versailles  on  the  road 
to  Paris.  .The  park  itself  was  of  twelve  acres,  charmingly  di- 
versified with  greensward  and  trees,  and  with  shrubbery  })atli3 
among  the  copses  in  all  directions.  A  large  section  of  the 
property   Madame  Elisabeth   presently  devoted  to  a  cow- 


'JO  LllK    AM)    LKITKKS   UF  [iiiAi-.  i. 

pasluro,  ilairv.  vof]jo(ableaiui  fruit  gardens,  and  a  poultry -yard. 
In  the  middle  of  a  lawn,  sluuled  with  trees  aud  shrubs  and 
brightened  with  beds  of  flowers,  stood  the  house,  the  peri- 
style of  wliich  was  supported  by  four  iiiarblc  columns. 
The  first  act  of  the  young  proprietor  was  to  give  a  small 
house  on  the  estate  to  Mme.  de  Mackau,  whose  permanent 
home  it  became. 

The  king  decided  that  until  Madame  filisabeth  had 
reached  her  twenty-fifth  year  (she  was  uow  eighteen)  she 
should  not  sleep  at  Montreuil ;  but  as  soon  as  she  was  put  in 
possession  of  her  dear  domain  she  passed  the  entire  day  there, 
and  was  only  at  Versailles  in  the  evening  and  at  night,  or  for 
occasions  of  ceremony.  She  heard  mass  in  the  morning  in 
the  Chapel  of  the  Chateau,  and  immediately  after  it  went 
with  certain  of  her  friends  in  a  carriage,  or  on  horseback,  an 
exercise  of  which  she  was  very  fond,  or  sometimes  on  foot 
to  Montreuil.  The  life  she  led  there  was,  uniform,  like  that 
of  a  family  in  some  country  chateau  a  hundred  leagues  from 
Paris.  Hours  for  study,  work,  and  rambles,  either  alone  or 
with  friends,  occupied  her  time ;  the  dinner-hour  brought 
them  all  together  around  the  same  table. 

Little  by  little  her  occupations  increased.  She  laid  out  her 
farm,  her  dairy,  her  kitchen-gardens  and  poultry-yard,  and 
became  herself  the  farmer  of  the  place ;  she  loved  all  rural 
interests.  She  had  an  overseer,  to  whom  she  gave  full 
authority  under  herself;  and  this  man  and  those  under  liim 
fulfilled  her  orders  with  such  care  and  assiduity  that  no  dis- 
putes and  no  complaints  ever  troubled  that  happy  solitude. 

But  Madame  Elisabeth  was  not  satisfied  with  her  own  en- 
joyment of  the  place.  Soon  she  became  the  friend  and 
providence  of  the  neighbouring  village  and  its  environs.  She 
knew  all  the  inhabitants  personally ;  their  interests  became 
hers;  young  girls  were    dowered     and    married,    the    old 


1792]  MADAME   :feLISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  21 

and  the  worthy  were  cared  for,  the  sick  were  nursed  and 
doctored.  The  milk  of  her  dairy  went  to  the  children,  the 
vegetables  and  fruits  to  the  sick  ;  often  she  could  be  seen  at- 
tending to  the  distribution  herself.  All  this  was  not  done 
without  personal  sacrifice.  Her  means  were  comparatively 
small ;  she  had  only  the  pension  which  she  received  as  sister 
of  the  king,  but  she  eked  it  out  by  economy,  —  economy  on 
herself,  be  it  said.  "  Yes,  that  is  very  pretty,"  she  replied, 
when  urged  to  buy  a  jewel  which  she  fancied,  "  but  with 
that  money  I  could  set  up  two  little  homes."  Various  other 
anecdotes  of  this  kind  have  come  down  to  us,  but  Madame 
Elisabeth  herself  frowned  on  any  notice  being  taken  of  such 
deeds.  On  one  occasion,  when  the  Bishop  of  Alais  made  her 
a  fulsome  speech  of  admiration,  she  said,  blushing,  that  he 
judged  her  far  too  favourably.  "  Madame,"  he  replied,  "  I  am 
not  even  on  the  level  of  my  subject."  "  You  are  right,"  she 
said,  with  a  certain  little  sarcasm  that  was  all  her  own; 
"  you  are  very  much  above  it." 

One  pleasure  which  she  derived  from  her  new  way  of  liv- 
ing was  that  of  seeing  her  brothers  with  greater  freedom. 
Monsieur  would  often  drive  out  to  Montreuil  and  spend 
hours  with  her.  "  My  brother,  the  Comte  de  Provence,"  she 
said  one  day,  "  is  the  most  enlightened  of  advisers.  His 
judgment  on  men  and  things  is  seldom  mistaken,  and  his 
vast  memory  supplies  him  with  an  inexhaustible  source  of 
interesting  anecdotes."  The  society  of  the  Comte  d'Artois 
gave  her  interests  of  another  kind.  More  sensible  than  he, 
she  often  permitted  herself  to  lecture  him.  Gay  and  heed- 
less, he  laughed  at  her  advice,  but  as  he  advanced  in  life  he 
began  to  love  her  with  a  tenderness  mingled  with  vener- 
ation, a  feeling  whicli  increased  as  misfortunes  closed  down 
upon  them.  After  he  had  left  France,  those  about  him  could 
guess  when  he  received  a  letter  from  her ;  emotion  showed 


22  MKK    AND    LKTTEHS   (»K  [chap.  i. 

on  his  features  aiul  his  hands  trembled  as  he  opened  it. 
lieciprciojil  aflVction  between  a  brother  and  sister  was  never 
keener,  truer,  or  more  expansive. 

Madame  l^Uisabeth's  relation  to  Louis  XVI.  was  of  still 
another  character.  They  both  seemed  aware  that  she  was, 
and  would  be,  necessary  to  him.  She  liked  to  visit  her  aunt 
Louise,  the  Carmelite  nun  at  Saint-Denis.  The  king  became 
uneasy  at  the  frequency  of  these  visits.  "  I  am  very  will- 
ing," he  said  to  her  one  day,  "  that  you  should  go  and  see 
your  aunt,  but  only  on  condition  that  you  will  not  imitate 
her.  Elisabeth,  I  need  you"  Her  heart  had  told  her  that 
already,  and  the  time  was  swiftly  approaching  when 
she  obeyed  the  inward  call  and  gave  up  her  life  to  him. 

Thus  flowed  the  days  of  the  happy  young  princess  until 
the  terrible  winter  of  1788-89,  when  the  sufferings  of 
the  poor  exhausted  her  means  and  made  her  run  in  debt  to 
advance  to  the  starved  and  frozen  people  what  she  called 
"  their  revenue."  Her  letters  show  that  already  she  foresaw, 
and  rightly,  the  public  troubles  that  were  soon  to  appear. 
She  knew  the  character  of  the  king ;  she  believed  that  his 
impolitic  action  on  the  8th  of  May,  1788,  could  end  only 
in  the  recall  of  the  parliament,  of  M.  Necker,  and  the  con- 
vocation of  the  States-General.  In  a  letter  of  hers  dated 
June  9,  1788,  she  says :  "  The  king  returns  upon  his  steps, 
as  did  our  grandfather.  He  is  always  afraid  of  being  mis- 
taken; his  first  impidse  passed,  he  is  tormented  by  a  fear 
of  doing  injustice.  ...  It  seems  to  me,"  she  continues, "  that 
it  is  in  government  as  it  is  in  education :  one  should  not  say 
/  vjill,  unless  one  is  sure  of  being  right ;  then,  once  said, 
nothing  should  be  given  up  of  what  has  been  ordained." 
Madame  Elisabeth  would  fain  have  had  the  king  take  that 
princiyjle  as  his  rule  of  conduct,  and  she  foresaw  the  e\'ils 
that  his  kindness   and   his   weakness  would  produce.     "I 


1792]  MADAME   ^LISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  23 

see  a  thousand  things,"  she  says,  "  which  he  does  not  even 
suspect,  because  his  soul  is  so  good  that  intrigue  is  foreign  to 
it."  The  note  of  foreboding,  not,  perhaps,  fully  compre- 
hended by  her  own  mind,  is  in  much  that  she  says  and 
writes  at  this  period.  Instinctively  she  turns  to  the  support 
of  her  life  —  to  the  spirit  of  faith  —  and  we  find  her  in- 
most thoughts  in  a  prayer  to  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus, 
written  at  this  time  and  given  to  Mme.  de  Raigecourt,  the 
manuscript  of  which,  in  her  own  handwriting,  is  preserved 
in  the  Bibliothfeque  Nationale  :  — 

"  Adorable  heart  of  Jesus,  sanctuary  of  the  love  that  led 
God  to  make  himself  man,  to  sacrifice  his  life  for  our  salva- 
tion, and  to  make  of  his  body  the  food  of  our  souls :  in 
gratitude  for  that  infinite  charity  I  give  you  my  heart,  and 
with  it  all  that  I  possess  in  this  world,  all  that  I  am,  all  that 
I  shall  do,  all  that  I  shall  suffer.  But,  my  God,  may  this 
heart,  I  implore  you,  be  no  longer  unworthy  of  you ;  make  it 
like  unto  yourself ;  surround  it  with  your  thorns  and  close  its 
entrance  to  all  ill-regulated  affections  ;  set  there  your  cross, 
make  it  feel  its  worth,  make  it  willing  to  love  it.  Kindle 
it  with  your  divine  flame.  May  it  burn  for  your  glory ;  may 
it  be  all  yours,  when  you  have  done  what  you  will  with  it. 
You  are  its  consolation  in  its  troubles,  the  remedy  of  its  ills, 
its  strength  and  refuge  in  temptation,  its  hope  during  life,  its 
haven  in  death.  I  ask  you,  0  heart  so  loving,  the  same 
favour  for  my  companions.     So  be  it." 

"  Aspiration. 

"  0  divine  heart  of  Jesus  !  I  love  you,  I  adore  you,  I  invoke 
you,  with  my  companions,  for  all  the  days  of  my  life,  but 
especially  for  the  hour  of  my  death. 

0  vere  adorator  ct  unice  amator  Dei,  miserere  nobis.   Amen." 


24  I. IKK    AND    KKTPKUS    OF  [riiAr.  i. 

It  was  on  the  5111  of  October,  1789,  the  day  wheu  the 
Parisian  mob  of  men  and  women  marched  to  Versailles  and 
compelled  tlie  king  to  take  the  fatal  step  of  going  to  Paris, 
thai  Madame  Elisabeth  was  suddenly,  without  warning, 
hurried  from  her  dear  Montreuil,  never  to  enter  it  again. 
From  the  terrace  of  her  garilen  she  saw  the  first  coming  of 
the  populace,  and,  mounting  her  horse,  she  rode  to  the  palace. 
Tlie  king  was  out  hunting,  but  messengers  had  gone  for  him, 
and  when  he  returned  she  urged  him  to  stand  firm  against 
this  vanguard  of  anarchy,  saying  that  a  vigorous  and  immedi- 
ate repression  would  avert  great  future  evils,  and  advising 
witli  true  instinct  that  if  the  royal  family  left  Versailles  at 
all,  it  should  be  for  a  town  at  a  distance  from  Paris,  where 
loyal  men  could  rally  to  the  king  and  enable  him  to  break 
through  the  tyranny  that  the  factions  were  beginning  to 
exercise. 

For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  listen  to  her  and  to  the  coun- 
sels of  M.  de  Saint-Priest,  minister  of  the  interior,  whose 
opinions  agreed  entirely  with  hers.  But  his  firmness  gave 
way  before  the  views  of  M.  Necker,  and  he  consented  to 
negotiate,  as  power  to  power,  with  the  rioters.  Prompted  by 
its  leaders,  the  mob  demanded  that  the  king  should  instantly 
fix  his  residence  in  Paris,  and  M.  de  la  Fayette  sent  message 
after  message  urging  him  to  comply.  Madame  ^Elisabeth 
expressed  her  contrary  opinion :  "  It  is  not  to  Paris,  Sire, 
that  you  should  go.  You  have  still  devoted  battalions  and 
faithful  guards  to  protect  you.  I  implore  you,  my  brother, 
not  to  go  to  Paris." 

The  king,  pulled  this  way  and  that  by  conflicting  opin- 
ions, hesitated  too  long ;  the  moment  for  resistance  went  by  ; 
the  troops,  indignant  at  a  thoughtless  neglect  of  them,  lost 
ardour,  and  the  king,  without  initiative,  without  will,  deferred 
to  the  clamoiu-  of   the  multitude  and  gave  his  promise  to 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  25 

depart.  As  the  miserable  procession  passed  Montreuil, 
Madame  Elisabeth  bent  forward  in  the  carriage  to  look  at 
the  trees  of  her  dear  domain.  "  Are  you  bowing  to  Montreuil, 
sister  ? "  asked  the  kiug.  "  Sire,  I  am  bidding  it  farewell," 
she  answered  gently. 

From  this  time  she  shared  the  captivity  —  for  such  it  was 
—  of  her  brother  and  his  family.  At  first  a  semblance  of 
social  life  was  kept  up  at  the  Tuderies.  The  Princesse  de 
Lamballe  tried  to  gather  a  society  about  her,  and  the  queen 
for  a  while  appeared  at  her  assemblies ;  but  confidence  and 
safety  were  gone ;  this  last  effort  of  gayety,  begun  by  the 
princess  to  brighten  the  queen's  life,  ceased,  and  the  royal 
family  took  up  a  system  of  living  which  they  followed  ever 
after,  even  in  the  Temple.  During  the  mornings  the  queen 
and  Madame  Elisabeth  superintended  the  lessons  of  Madame 
Eoyale  and  the  dauphin,  and  worked  at  large  pieces  of 
tapestry.  Their  minds  were  too  preoccupied  by  the  events 
of  the  day,  the  perils  of  the  present  and  the  threats  of  the 
future,  to  allow  them  to  read  books,  as  they  did  later  in  the 
awful  silence  and  monotony  of  the  Tower;  needlework  be- 
came their  sole  distraction.  Mile.  Dubuquois,  who  kept  a 
shop  for  wools  and  tapestries,  long  preserved  and  exhibited  a 
carpet  made  by  the  two  princesses  for  the  large  room  of  the 
queen's  apartment  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  Tuileries. 

During  this  time  Madame  Elisabeth  continued  whenever 
the  opportunity  came  to  her  to  urge  the  king  to  assert  him- 
self and  firmly  maintain  his  power  and  the  monarchy. 
When  M.  de  Favras  was  executed  (February  19,  1790)  and 
the  king  did  not,  or  could  not,  interfere  to  save  him,  she 
exclaimed  in  the  bitterness  of  her  heart :  "  They  have  killed 
Favras  because  he  tried  to  save  the  king,  and  the  days  of 
October  5th  and  6th  remain  unpunished !  Oh,  if  the  king 
would  only  he  king,  how  all  would  change  !  "     She  saw  with 


26  LIKK   ANn   I.KTTKUS   OK  [cuai-.  i. 

dread  the  cominfr  crisis  which,  hrenking  the  lines  of  govern- 
ment, would  render  the  king's  will  impotent  and  repression 
impossible  This  conviction  appears  in  many  details  of  her 
life.  Noticing  that  one  of  her  ladies  looked  attentively  into 
the  garden  of  the  Tuileries  (May,  1791),  she  asked  what 
attracted  her  attention.  "  jMadame,  I  am  looking  at  our 
good  master,  who  is  walking  there."  "Our  master!"  she 
exclaimed.     "  Ah  !  to  our  sorrow,  he  is  that  no  longer." 

The  queen  shared  the  anxiety  that  the  king's  weakness 
inspired  in  Madame  Elisabeth,  but  she  had  a  hope  which 
Madame  Elisabeth  did  not  share.  She  was  convinced  that 
the  safety  of  the  royal  family  and  the  French  monarchy 
would  be  vmdertaken  by  Austria,  and  that  some  efficacious 
succour  would  come  from  that  direction,  without  her  making 
any  appeal  for  it.  This  was  attributing  to  her  brother  and 
the  cabinet  of  Vienna  a  generosity  they  were  far  from  hav- 
ing, and  admitting  a  hope  which  her  enemies  were  not  slow 
in  turning  into  a  crime. 

It  should  here  be  remarked  that  Madame  Elisabeth  judged 
the  politics  of  the  European  cabinets  with  severity.  She  was 
ver}'  far  from  approving  the  official  advice  and  crafty  insinu- 
ations which  made  their  way  to  Queen  Marie-Antoinette. 
Having  a  profound  aversion  for  all  that  did  not  seem  to  her 
upright,  just,  and  straightforward,  she  was  convinced  that  the 
secret  proceedings  of  the  Comte  de  Mercy  —  "  that  fox,"  as 
she  called  him — would  prove  fatal;  but  being  without  power 
to  combat  that  influence,  she  could  only  pity  Marie-Antoi- 
nette for  enduring  it,  and  for  lending  an  ear  to  counsels 
which,  without  serving  the  family  welfare,  compromised,  in 
her  opinion,  the  stability  of  her  brother's  throne.  To  be 
just,  we  must  here  remark  that  Madame  Elisabeth  had  been 
brought  up,  like  all  the  princesses  of  the  House  of  France,  to 
distrust  Austria.     The  same  feelings  could  not  be  expected 


'jucjuiie.-  wi.  J 


here  be  remarked  that  M: 


•at  that  ',  she  c< 


^m^^" 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  27 

of  the  daughter  of  Maria  Theresa.  Equitable  history  will 
recognize  that  Marie-Antoinette  never  dreamed  of  sacrificing 
France  to  her  native  country ;  but  she  did  hope  and  believe 
that  the  alliance  with  the  House  of  Austria,  of  which  her 
marriage  had  been  a  pledge,  would  serve  the  interests  of  the 
two  nations,  and  be  a  support  to  the  French  monarchy  now 
shaken  to  its  foundations. 

The  day  came  at  last  when  Louis  XVI.,  goaded  by  his  vir- 
tual captivity  and  exposed  to  the  virulent  actions  of  the  clubs 
as  well  as  to  the  monstrous  insults  of  the  street  populace, 
attempted  to  recover  power.  He  resolved  to  leave  Paris  and 
raise  his  standard  elsewhere  in  France,  thus  following,  on 
the  20th  of  June,  1791,  the  advice  his  sister  had  given  him 
October  5,  1789. 

The  story  of  the  escape  from  Paris  and  the  stoppage  at 
Varennes  is  too  fully  told  elsewhere  to  repeat  it  here.  Ma- 
dame Elisabeth  makes  only  brief  allusion  to  it  in  her  letters 
of  that  date.  After  their  return  to  Paris  M.  de  la  Fayette,  ap- 
pointed by  the  National  Assembly  governor  of  the  Tuileries 
and  keeper  of  the  king  and  royal  family,  offered  to  allow 
Madame  Elisabeth  to  leave  the  kingdom.  This  she  refused 
to  accept,  and  that  decision  sealed  her  fate.  Nevertheless, 
she  shuddered  as  she  contemplated  with  clear  eyes  the  posi- 
tion of  the  king  and  queen,  deprived  of  all  military  support, 
reduced  to  beg  their  friends  to  go  away  from  them,  isolated 
henceforth  on  a  throne  without  power,  captives  in  a  palace 
which  was  really  a  prison,  and  forbidden  the  last  right  of 
misfortune,  that  of  complaint.  She  saw  that  in  vain  the 
king  had  sacrificed  his  prerogatives,  given  up  his  rights, 
abandoned  his  honours ;  the  factions  by  this  time  disputed 
even  his  right  to  think,  and  measured  out  to  him  and  his 
family  the  very  air  they  breathed.     Madame  l^lisabeth  made 

herself  no  illusions  as  to  the  projects  of  the  anarchists ;  on 
3  Mem.  Ver.  9 


28  LIKK   AND    LKTTKHS   OF  [ciiai-.  i. 

the  l20th  of  June,  1792,  the  anniversary  of  the  capture  at 
Vareunes,  they  justitied  her  fears. 

She  relates  the  events  of  that  day  in  a  letter,  omitting, 
however,  certain  acts  of  her  own  which  redound  to  her  glory. 
As  the  king  left  his  family  to  face  the  mob,  she  followed  him, 
and  darting  through  the  dt)or,  which  was  instantly  locked 
behind  her,  she  placed  herself  beside  him  as  he  stood  on 
a  table  which  the  pressure  of  the  mob  had  forced  him  to 
moimt  with  the  bonnet  rouge  upon  his  head.  The  populace 
took  her  for  the  queen  and  threatened  her.  "  Do  not  unde- 
ceive them,"  she  said.  There  she  remained  for  several  hours, 
exposed  to  the  vilest  insults.  Once  when  a  bayonet  almost 
touched  her  breast,  she  turned  it  aside  with  her  hand,  saying : 
"  Take  care,  monsieur,  you  might  wound  me,  and  I  am  sure 
you  would  be  sorry  for  that." 

A  woman  of  the  people,  speaking  the  next  day  of  the  fail- 
ure of  the  attack,  said :  "  We  could  do  nothing ;  they  had 
their  Sainte  Genevifeve  with  them,"  giving  her  the  name  the 
fish-wives  applied  to  her  as  the  carriage  entered  Paris  on  the 
fatal  5th  of  October,  the  last  day  of  the  French  monarchy. 

It  was  on  the  day  following  this  20th  of  June,  that  Louis 
XVI.  wrote  to  his  confessor :  "  Come  and  see  me  this  even- 
ing, I  have  done  with  men  ;  I  can  now  concern  myself  only 
with  heaven." 

In  spite  of  the  vast  emigration  of  nobles  and  gentlemen 
who  abandoned  their  countr}'  and  their  king  from  the 
time  of  the  first  revolutionary  alarms  in  1789, —  which  has 
been,  perhaps,  too  much  condoned  by  history  in  view  of 
their  great  misfortunes, —  a  few  faithful  men  remained  in 
Paris  after  June  20th,  resolved  to  save  the  king  and  his 
family  if  it  were  still  possible.  They  knew  that  the  attack 
of  June  20th  was  an  organized  blow,  missed  for  the  moment, 
but  certain  to  be  repeated.     As  early  as  the  morning  of  the 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  29 

7th  of  August  they  had  precise  information  as  to  what  was 
to  happen  on  the  10  th,  and  they  formed  a  definite  plan  for 
the  rescue  of  the  royal  family.  Malouet,  in  his  "  Memoirs 
of  the  Constituent  Assembly,"  of  which  he  was  a  member, 
gives  a  clear  account  of  this. 

Even  the  Constitutional  party,  alarmed  at  the  rapidity 
with  which  the  Revolution  was  rushing  towards  anarchy, 
was  ready  to  rally  to  the  king,  and  would  have  supported 
any  action  that  removed  him  from  Paris  and  placed  him 
with  the  army ;  it  was  even  proposed  among  them  to  bring 
a  division  under  General  de  la  Fayette  to  Compifegne  to 
favour  the  escape  of  the  royal  family.  This  plan,  conceived 
as  early  as  May,  1792,  failed,  owing  to  the  king's  incurable 
distrust  of  the  constitutionals  and  his  remembrance  that  to 
them  he  owed  the  failure  at  Varennes.     Malouet  says :  — 

"M.  de  la  Fayette,  who  now  judged  the  state  of  things 
more  soundly  than  he  did  at  the  beginning  of  the  Eevolution, 
was  sincere  in  his  desire  to  devote  himself  to  the  king  and 
the  Constitution,  after  having  contributed  to  put  them  in 
great  peril.  He  was  sure  of  his  army  and  that  of  his 
colleague  Luckner,  if  the  king  decided  to  put  himself  at 
their  head.  He  came  to  Paris  in  May  to  make  the  proposal, 
and  as  he  knew  the  king  had  confidence  in  me  he  asked  me 
to  meet  him." 

Louis  XVI.  rejected  this  proposal,  and  Malouet  adds: 
"  Whatever  were  the  desh-es,  the  hopes  of  the  royal  family, 
nothing  justifies  the  imprudence  of  the  king  in  isolating 
himself  without  defence  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies,  and  in 
not  being  willing,  or  not  knowing  how,  to  rally  to  himself 
a  national  party.  .  .  .  Can  it  be  believed  that  the  king, 
whose  judgment  was  accurate,  that  the  queen,  who  did  not 
lack  enlightenment  or  courage,  that  Madame  l^Uisabeth,  who 
had  much  of  both,  should  have  willingly  reduced  themselves 


:?0  LIFK    AND    I.KlTKliS   OK  [ciiai>.  !. 

in  ihe  midst  of  the  greatest  dangers  to  complete  iuactiuu  ? 
...  1  do  not  doubt  that  the  security  and  hopes  of  the 
queen  and  Madame  l^lisabeth  fastened  themselves  on  help 
from  the  foreign  Powers,  which  the  king  never  invited  ex- 
cept with  much  circumspection  and  always  in  hopes  of  avert- 
ing a  national  war.  These  tentatives  were  as  inconsequent 
as  all  else  that  he  did.  There  was  nothing  precise,  nothing 
complete  in  his  plan  ;  the  secret  powers  given  to  the  Baron 
de  Breteuil  were  only  contingent ;  more  vague  than  un- 
limited, they  appealed  neither  to  the  foreign  armies,  nor  to 
the  great  body  of  emigres  assembled  on  the  frontier;  they 
simply  tended  to  the  mediation  of  the  allies  of  France." 

Meantime  the  crisis  was  approaching.  The  5th  of 
October  and  the  20th  of  June  foretold  it;  on  the  10th  of 
August  it  came.  There  is  comfort  in  feeling  that  a  few 
generous  hearts  remained  in  Paris  watching  for  a  chance 
to  save  the  royal  family  even  at  the  last  moment.  Malouet 
was  one  of  them,  and  he  thus  tells  of  their  final  ei'fort,  their 
forlorn  hope :  — 

"  M.  de  Lally  [Tollendal],"  he  says,  "  came  frequently  to 
our  meetings  at  the  house  of  M.  de  Montmorin  with  MM. 
de  Malesherbes,  Clermont-Tonnerre,  Bertrand,  la  Tour-du- 
Pin,  Sainte-Croix,  and  Gouverneur  Morris,  envoy  of  the 
United  States,  for  whom  the  king  had  a  liking,  and  who 
gave  His  Majesty  (but  as  uselessly  as  the  rest  of  us)  the 
most  vigorous  advice.  It  was  on  the  7th  of  August  that  we 
dined  together  for  the  last  time.  Our  conference  had  for  its 
object  to  attempt  a  fresh  effort  to  carry  off,  by  means  of  the 
Swiss  Guard,  the  royal  family  and  take  them  to  Pontoise. 
Being  fully  warned  in  detail  of  all  the  preparations  for  the 
10th  of  August,  we  had  been  assembled  in  consultation  ever 
since  the  morning  at  M.  de  Montmorin's.  He  had  written 
to  the  king  informing  him  of  everything,  and  saying  that 


1792]  MADAME   ELISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  31 

now  there  could  be  no  holding  back;  that  we  should  be 
the  next  morning  before  daylight,  to  the  number  of  seventy, 
at  the  royal  stables,  where  the  order  must  be  given  to  have 
saddle-horses  ready  for  us ;  that  the  National  Guard  of  the 
Tuileries,  commanded  by  Acloque,  would  aid  our  expedition ; 
that  four  companies  of  the  Swiss  Guard  would  start  at  the 
same  hour  from  Courbevoie  and  come  to  meet  the  king ;  that 
we  ourselves  should  escort  him  to  the  Champs-Ellys^es  and 
put  him  in  a  carriage  with  his  family.  The  bearer  of  the 
letter  came  back  without  reply.  M.  de  Montmorin  went  at 
once  to  the  king.  Madame  Elisabeth  informed  him  that  the 
insurrection  would  not  take  place  ;  that  Santerre  and  Potion 
had  pledged  themselves  to  that ;  that  they  had  received 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  to  prevent  it  and 
to  bring  the  Marseillais  over  to  the  king's  side.  The  king 
was  none  the  less  anxious  and  agitated,  though  fully  de- 
cided not  to  leave  Paris.  .  .  .  He  said  he  preferred  to  ex- 
pose  himself   to  all   dangers  than  begin  civil  war." 

This  is  not  the  place  to  relate  the  public  events  of  those 
days,  so  well  known,  with  their  causes  and  actors,  to  history ; 
suffice  it  to  say  that  the  plan  which  miscarried  June  20th 
was  carried  out  on  the  10th  of  August,  when  the  king  was 
persuaded,  against  the  will  of  his  wife  and  sister,  to  seek 
refuge  in  the  National  Assembly,  while  the  Swiss  Guard, 
believing  he  was  still  in  the  palace,  fought  to  defend  him 
and  were  butchered  to  a  man.  "  Nail  me  to  that  wall," 
said  Marie-Antoinette,  "if  I  consent  to  go." 

But  before  this  day  Madame  Elisabeth  had  abandoned 
hope ;  she  no  longer  sought  to  arm  the  king  with  courage ; 
the  lines  of  her  face,  and  the  look  from  her  eyes  now  said, 
"  Resignation,"  and  such  was  her  history  from  that  moment. 
Her  last  letter  bore  date  August  8,  1792,  —  two  days  before 
the  fatal  10th ;  in  it  she  spoke  of  the  "  de^th  of  the  execu- 


32  I.IFi:    AND   LETTERS   OF  [rnAi-.  i. 

tive  power,"  adding,  "  I  can  enter  into  no  doLails."  The  last 
glimpse  we  have  of  her  as  a  comparatively  free  woman  on  her 
way  through  the  Tuileries  to  the  National  Assembly,  is  given 
by  M.  de  La  llochefoueauld,  in  his  unpublished  Memoirs :  — 

"  They  issued,"  he  says,  "  by  the  centre  door  [of  the  Tuile- 
ries]. M.  de  Ibchmann,  major  of  the  Swiss  Guard,  came  first 
through  two  ranks  of  his  soldiers.  M.  de  PoLx  followed  him 
at  a  little  distance,  walking  immediately  before  the  king. 
The  queen  followed  the  king,  leading  the  dauphin  Ijy  the 
hand.  Madame  Elisabeth  gave  her  arm  to  Madame  the  king's 
daughter ;  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe  and  Mme.  de  Tourzel 
followed.  I  was  in  the  garden,  near  enough  to  offer  my  arm 
to  Madame  de  Lamballe,  who  was  the  most  dejected  and 
frightened  of  the  party ;  she  took  it.  The  king  walked  erect ; 
his  countenance  was  composed,  but  sorrow  was  painted  on  his 
face.  The  queen  was  in  tears ;  from  time  to  time  she  wiped 
them  and  strove  to  take  a  confident  air,  which  she  kept  for 
a  while ;  nevertheless,  having  had  her  for  a  moment  on  my 
arm,  I  felt  her  tremble.  The  dauphin  did  not  seem  much 
frightened.  Madame  Elisabeth  was  calm,  resigned  to  all; 
it  was  religion  that  inspired  her.  She  said  to  me,  looking  at 
the  ferocious  populace :  '  All  those  people  are  misguided ;  I 
wish  their  conversion,  but  not  their  punishment.'  The  little 
Madame  wept  softly.  Madame  de  Lamballe  said  to  me, 
'  We  shall  never  return  to  the  Chateau.' " 

The  Tower  of  the  Temple,  that  historical  purgatory  of  the 
royalty  of  France,  is  now  to  be  the  last  scene  and  witness  of 
the  virtues  of  Madame  Elisabeth  ;  and  it  is  also  to  witness  a 
transformation  in  the  character  of  its  chief  captive.  Louis 
XVI.,  no  longer  feeble  and  irresolute,  blundering  and  inert, 
becomes  a  patient,  tranquil  man,  brave  unto  death,  with 
charity  to  all,  a  true  Christian,  the  innocent  expiator  of  the 
crimes  and  faults  of  other  reigns. 


1786]  MADAME    ELISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  33 


CHAPTER    11. 

Letters  of  Madame  Elisabeth  to  the  Marquise  de  Bombelles,  the  Marquise 
de  Raigecourt,  the  Abbe'  de  Lubersac,  and  others,  from  1786  to  August 
8th,  1792. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Bombelles. 

September,  1786. 
I  possess  in  the  world  two  friends,  and  they  are  both  far 
away  from  me.  That  is  too  painful ;  one  of  you  must  posi- 
tively return.  If  you  do  not  return,  I  shall  go  to  Saint-Cyr 
without  you,  and  I  shall  still  further  avenge  myself  by  mar- 
rying our  protegee  without  you.  My  heart  is  full  of  the  hap- 
piness of  that  poor  girl  who  weeps  with  joy  —  and  you  not 
there  !  I  have  visited  two  other  poor  families  without  you. 
I  pray  to  God  without  you.  But  I  pray  for  you,  for  you  need 
his  grace,  and  I  have  need  that  he  should  touch  you  —  you 
who  abandon  me !  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  I  love  you, 
nevertheless,  tenderly.  Elisabeth-Marie. 

November  27,  1786. 
You  see  that  I  obey  you,  my  child,  for  here  I  am  again. 
You  spoil  me ;  you  write  to  me  punctually ;  that  gives  me 
pleasure,  but  I  am  afraid  it  may  give  you  a  headache.  I 
preach  against  my  interests,  for  I  am  very  happy  when  I  see 
your  handwriting  ;  I  love  you,  but  I  love  your  health  better 
than  all.  You  say  that  Eontainebleau  has  not  spoilt  me ;  I 
like  to  believe  it.  Perhaps  you  will  think  that  rather  vain- 
glorious, but  I  assure  you,  my  heart  [^mon  coeur'],  that  I  am 
very  far  from  thinking  I  can  remain  good  ;  I  feel  I  have  very 
much  to  do  to  be  good  according  to  God.     The  world  judges 


34  LII'K    AND    I.KrPKKS   OF  [oiiac.  ii. 

lightly  ;  on  a  mere  nothing  it  gives  us  a  gotul  or  a  bad  repu- 
tation. Not  so  with  Ciod  ;  he  judges  us  internally  ;  and  the 
more  the  outward  imposes,  the  sterner  he  will  be  to  the  in- 
ward. ...  I  have  been  at  Montreuil  since  nine  o'clock,  the 
weather  is  charming.  I  have  walked  about  with  Eaigecourt 
for  an  hour  and  three-quarters.  Mme.  Albert  de  Rioms  is 
coming  to  dine  with  me,  so  that  my  letter  cannot  be  long. 

March  15,  1787. 

You  ask  me,  my  friend,  how  I  pass  my  time ;  I  shall  an- 
swer: Rather  sadly,  because  I  see  many  things  that  grieve 
me.  The  famous  Assembly  of  Notables  has  met.  Wliat  will 
it  do  ?  Nothing,  except  make  known  to  the  people  the  criti- 
cal situation  in  which  we  are.  The  king  is  sincere  in  asking 
their  advice.  Will  they  be  the  same  in  giving  it  ?  I  think 
not.  I  have  little  experience,  and  the  tender  interest  I  take 
?n  my  brother  alone  induces  me  to  concern  myself  with  these 
subjects,  much  too  serious  for  my  nature.  I  do  not  know, 
but  it  seems  to  me  they  are  taking  a  course  directly  the  op- 
posite of  that  they  ought  to  take.  ...  I  have  a  presenti- 
ment that  all  will  turn  out  ill.  As  for  me,  if  it  were  not  for 
my  attachment  to  the  king  I  would  retire  to  Saint-Cyr.  In- 
trigues fatigue  me ;  they  are  not  in  accordance  with  my 
nature.  I  like  peace  and  repose ;  but  it  is  not  at  the  mo- 
ment when  my  brother  is  unfortunate  that  I  will  separate 
from  him. 

The  queen  is  very  pensive.  Sometimes  we  are  hours  to- 
gether alone  without  her  saymg  a  word.  She  seems  to  fear 
me.  Ah !  who  can  take  a  keener  interest  than  I  in  my 
brother's  happiness  ? 

April  9,  1787. 

M.  de  Calonne  was  dismissed  yesterday  ;  his  malversation 
was  so  proved  that  the  king  decided  upon  it ;  I  do  not  fear 


1787]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  35 

to  tell  you  the  extreme  joy  I  feel,  which  is  shared  by  every 
one.  He  is  ordered  to  remain  at  Versailles  until  his  suc- 
cessor is  appointed,  so  as  to  render  him  an  account  of  affairs 
and  of  his  projects.  One  of  my  friends  said  to  me  some 
time  ago  that  I  did  not  like  him,  but  that  I  should  change 
my  opinion  before  long.  I  don't  know  if  his  dismissal  will 
contribute  to  that ;  he  would  have  to  do  a  good  many  things 
before  I  could  change  in  regard  to  him.  He  must  feel  a 
little  anxious  about  his  fate.  They  say  his  friends  put  a 
good  face  upon  it ;  but  I  believe  the  devil  loses  nothing  and 
that  they  are  far  from  being  satisfied.  It  was  M.  de  Mont- 
morin  who  gave  him  his  dismissal.  I  hoped  the  Baron  de 
Breteuil  would  not  take  that  upon  himself;  it  does  him 
honour  not  to  have  done  so.^ 

The  Assembly  continues  as  before  and  with  the  same 
plans.  The  Notables  talk  with  more  freedom  (though  they 
have  never  cramped  themselves  in  that),  and  I  hope  good 
may  come  of  it.  My  brother  has  such  good  intentions,  he 
desires  the  right  so  much  and  to  make  his  people  happy,  he 
has  kept  himself  so  pure,  that  it  is  impossible  God  should 
not  bless  his  good  qualities  with  great  successes.  He  did  his 
Easter  duties  to-day.  God  will  encourage  him,  God  will 
show  him  the  right  way :  I  hope  much.  The  preacher  in  his 
address  encouraged  him  immensely  to  take  counsel  of  his 
own  heart.  He  was  right,  for  my  brother  is  very  good  and 
very  superior  to  the  whole  Court  united. 

1  The  Baron  de  Breteuil,  then  minister  of  the  kinf,''s  household  and  of  the 
department  of  Paris,  had  heen  the  representatiye  of  the  king  towards  the 
Elector  of  Cologne,  Catherine  II.,  Empress  of  Russia,  Gustavus  III.,  King 
of  Sweden,  and  the  Emperors  Joseph  II.  and  Leopold.  In  the  various 
phases  of  his  career  he  had  won  the  esteem  of  all  honourahle  men.  — Fk.  Ed. 
He  was  later  sent  by  Louis  XVI.  to  negotiate  measures  with  all  the 
European  Powers  for  the  rescue  of  the  king  and  his  family  and  the  restora- 
tion of  the  monarchy.  See  Diary  and  Corr.  of  Count  Fersen,  of  the 
present  Hist.  Series.  —  Tb. 


36  lilFE   AND   LETTERS  OF  [chap.  ii. 

I  am  at  Montreuil  since  midday.  I  have  been  to  vespers 
in  the  parish  church.  They  were  quite  as  long  as  they  were 
last  year,  and  your  dear  vicar  sang  the  0  filii  in  a  manner 
quite  as  agreeable.  Des  Escars  expected  to  burst  out  laugh- 
ing, and  I  the  same. 

I  am  in  despair  at  the  sacrifice  you  make  me  of  your  mon- 
key, and  all  the  more  because  I  cannot  keep  it;  my  Aunt 
Victoii-e  has  a  dread  of  those  animals  and  would  be  angry  if 
I  had  one.  So,  my  heart,  in  spite  of  all  its  graces  and  of  the 
hand  that  gives  it  to  me,  I  must  relinquish  it.  If  you  like, 
I  wUI  send  it  back  to  you ;  if  not,  I  will  give  it  to  M.  de 
Gu^mdn^e.  I  am  in  despair,  I  feel  it  is  very  churlish,  that 
it  will  vex  you  very  much,  and  so  I  am  all  the  more  sorry. 
"What  consoles  me  is  that  you  would  have  had  to  get  rid  of 
it  soon  on  account  of  your  children,  because  it  might  become 
dangerous. 

Your  philosophy  enchants  me,  my  heart;  you  will  be 
happier,  and  you  know  how  I  desired  you  to  be  that.     I  do 

not  understand  why  you  say  that  M.  de  C [Mar^chal  de 

Castries]  is  a  bad  politician ;  they  seem  to  me  well  satisfied 
with  him ;  he  has  done  rather  fine  things,  and  M.  de  S^gur 
has  just  committed  the  most  egregious  blunder  in  accom- 
panying the  Empress  Catherine  on  her  journey  to  the  Crimea. 
She  is  terribly  restless,  that  good  lady,  which  displeases  me 
much.     I  am  a  partisan  of  repose.^ 

June  25,  1787. 
The  queen  is  very  kind  to  me  just  now;  we  are  going 
together  to  Saint-Cyr,  which  she  calls  my  cradle.  She  calls 
Montreuil  my  little  Trianon.  I  have  been  to  hers  the  last 
few  days  with  her,  without  any  consequences,  and  there  was 
no  attention  she  did  not  show  me.     She  prepared  for  me  one 

1  See  the  account  of  this  journey  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Prince  de  Ligne 
vol.  V.  'if  this  Hist.  Series.  —  Tr. 


1788]  MADAME   I:LISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  37 

of  those  surprises  in  which  she  excels ;  but  what  we  did  most 
was  to  weep  over  the  death  of  my  poor  little  niece  [Madame 
Sophie  de  France,  daughter  of  Louis  XVI.,  who  died  an 
infant] .  ... 

I  am  in  a  state  of  enchantment  at  the  enormous  gratuity 
they  have  given  you.  I  am  afraid  the  king  will  ruin  himself 
with  such  liberalities.  If  I  were  your  husband  I  would  leave 
it  with  M.  d'Harvelay  to  prove  to  M.  de  Vergennes  that  you 
demand  more  because  you  have  an  actual  need  of  it ;  let 
him  see  it  is  to  pay  your  debts  for  the  embassy,  and  that  as 
he  gives  you  so  little  on  account,  when  you  get  more  you  will 
have  to  employ  it  in  the  same  way.  I  began  by  reading 
M.  de  Vergennes'  letter  first,  thinking  I  was  to  see  superb 
things,  and  I  was  rather  shocked.  However,  after  reflecting 
upon  it  well,  I  believe  it  is  not  ill-will  on  his  part,  but  being 
obliged  to  give  gratuities  for  the  fetes,  he  is  hampered  and  is 
forced  to  diminish  this  one. 

Adieu,  my  heart.  I  hope  your  medicine  will  do  you  good. 
Try  to  calm  yourself. 

June  6,  1788. 

The  king  returns  upon  his  steps,  just  as  our  grandfather 
did.  .  .  .  It. seems  to  me  that  government  is  like  education. 
We  should  not  say  /  will  until  we  are  sure  of  being  right. 
But  once  said,  there  should  be  no  yielding  of  what  has  been 
ordained. 

I  think  that  my  sister-in-law  would  act  thus ;  but  she  does 
not  yet  know  the  soul  of  my  brother,  who  fears  always  to 
make  a  mistake,  and  who,  his  first  impulse  over,  is  tormented 
by  the  dread  of  doing  injustice.  You  will  see  that  the  parlia- 
ment will  be  recalled  within  six  months,  and  with  it  Necker 
and  the  States-General ;  that  is  an  evil  we  shall  not  escape, 
and  I  wish  thej'-  had  been  convoked  a  year  ago  that  we  might 
have  them  over  and  done  with.     Instead  of  that  everybody 


3S  LIKK    AND    LETTERS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

wraugles  and  all  are  getting  embittered.  What  the  king 
tloes  from  clemency  they  will  say  he  does  from  fear,  for  they 
will  not  do  liim  the  justice  he  deserves.  As  for  me,  who 
read  his  heart,  I  know  well  that  all  his  thoughts  are  for 
the  welfare  of  his  people.  But  he  would  make  that  more 
sure  by  isolating  himself  less  from  his  nobles.  He  is  advised 
to  the  contrary.  God  grant  he  may  never  repent  it !  I  dare 
not  speak  to  him  openly  about  many  things  that  I  see  and  that 
he  does  not  suspect  because  his  soul  is  so  fine  that  intrigue 
is  foreign  to  it.  Ah !  why  cannot  I  get  away  and  live  as  I 
Hke! 

To  3flle.  Marie  de  Caasans} 

March,  1789. 

Yes,  certainly,  my  heart,  I  will  write  to  you  before  you 
enter  the  novitiate ;  but  I  hope  that  you  will  not  be  forbidden 
to  receive  letters  afterwards.  It  is  true  that  we  shall  be 
hampered  by  the  inspection  of  a  mistress,  but  that  will  not 
prevent  me  from  saying  to  you  what  I  think.  You  will  per- 
haps be  astonished,  my  heart,  when  I  tell  you  that  in  spite 
of  all  the  reflections,  consultations,  and  tests  that  you  have 
made,  I  am  not  yet  sufficiently  con\'iiiced  of  the  solidity 
and  reality  of  your  vocation  to  escape  a  fear  that  you  have 
not  reflected  duly.  In  the  first  place,  my  heart,  we  cannot 
know  whether  a  vocation  is  really  the  work  of  God  until, 
with  a  desire  to  follow  his  will,  we  have  nevertheless  com- 
bated, in  good  faith,  the  inclination  which  leads  us  to  con- 
secrate ourselves  to  him ;  otherwise,  we  run  the  risk  of 
deceiving  ourselves,  and  of  following  a  transient  fervour  that 
is  often  only  a  need  of  the  heart  which,  having  no  objects  of 
attachment,  thinks  to  save  itself  from  the  danger  of  forming 

1  The  third  daughter  of  Mme.  de  Causans,  and  next  younger  sister  of 
Mme.  de  Raigecourt.  The  Revolution,  which  broke  up  the  convents, 
prevented  her  from  becoming  a  nun.  —  Tr. 


1789]  MADAME   f:LISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  39 

any  that  Heaven  may  disapprove  by  consecrating  itself  to 
God.  That  motive  is  praiseworthy,  but  it  is  not  sufficient; 
it  comes  from  passion,  it  comes  from  the  desire  and  need  of 
the  heart  to  form  a  tie  which  shall  fill  it,  for  the  moment, 
wholly.  But,  I  ask  you,  my  heart,  will  God  approve  of  that 
offering  ?  can  he  be  touched  by  the  sacrifice  of  a  soul  that 
gives  itself  to  him  only  to  rid  itself  of  responsibility  ?  You 
know  that  in  order  to  make  any  vow  of  any  kind  we  must 
have  a  free,  reflecting  will,  devoid  of  all  species  of  passion  ; 
it  is  the  same  in  making  the  religious  vows,  and  even  more 
essential.  The  world  is  odious  to  you ;  but  is  that  disgust 
or  regret  ?  Do  not  think  that  if  it  is  the  latter  your  vocation 
is  true  or  natural.  No,  my  heart.  Heaven  sent  you  a  tempta- 
tion ;  you  ought  to  bear  it,  and  not  take  a  resolution  to  con- 
secrate yourself  to  God  until  it  has  passed. 

Secondly,  my  heart,  we  must  have  our  minds  humbled 
before  taking  the  engagements  you  wish  to  take.  This  is 
the  essential  thing,  the  true  vocation.  All  that  concerns  the 
body  costs  little,  one  can  get  used  to  that ;  but  not  so  with 
all  that  belongs  to  the  mind  and  heart.  .  .  . 

If  d'Ampurie  [her  younger  sister]  is  not  married  within 
three  years,  and  is  obliged  to  go  to  her  Chapter,  can  you 
trust  to  her  eighteen  years  and  believe  that  she  will  always 
lead  a  virtuous  and  decorous  life,  that  she  will  never  need 
the  counsel  of  a  friend,  of  a  sister  who  stands  in  place  of  her 
mother,  and  for  whom  she  has  all  the  feelings  of  a  daughter  ? 
Do  you  think  that  in  abandoning  her  to  herself  you  fulfil 
the  most  sacred  duty  you  have  ever  had  to  fulfil,  —  that  to  a 
dying  mother  who  relied  upon  you,  who  chose  you  as  the 
one  most  fitted  to  replace  her,  a  mother  who  would  certainly 
not  have  abandoned  her  children  to  the  seductions  of  the 
world  that  she  might  yield  to  a  taste  for  retreat  and  devotion 
which  she  would  never  have  thought  incumbent  upon  her  ? 


40  LIFE   AND  LKTTERS  OF  [chap.  n. 

No,  my  lioart,  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  think  that 
you  fullil  your  duty,  tluit  you  accomplish  the  will  of  God  by 
consecialiiig  yourself  to  him  at  this  time.  lu  the  name  of 
that  God  you  seek  to  serve  in  the  most  perfect  manner,  con- 
sult with  others  once  more;  but,  my  heart,  let  it  be  with 
more  enlightened  persons,  persons  who  have  no  interests 
either  for  or  against  the  course  you  wish  to  take ;  explain  to 
them  your  position ;  let  yourself  be  examined  in  good  faith ; 
you  would  be  as  wrong  to  exaggerate  your  desire  as  to 
conceal  it.  .  .  . 

Eeassure  me,  my  heart,  by  telling  me  the  tests  to  which  you 
have  put  youi-self.  I  do  not  speak  of  those  of  the  body; 
those  are  absolutely  null  to  me  because  they  belong  to  mere 
habits  ;  but  have  you  struggled  against  your  vocation  ?  have 
you  felt  perfectly  calm  and  free  from  all  pains  of  mind  ?  are 
you  sure  it  is  not  from  excitement  that  you  give  yourself  to 
God  ?  .  .  .  Do  not  suppose,  my  heart,  that  a  convent  is 
exempt  from  evils  in  the  eyes  of  a  nun ;  the  more  perfect  she 
may  be,  the  more  she  will  want  to  find  the  same  sentiments 
in  others,  and  you  will  not  be  safe  from  that  temptation, 
for,  I  admit,  it  is  one.  There  are  very  few  convents  in 
which  charity  reigns  sufficiently  for  that  fault  to  be  un- 
known there. 

Nevertheless,  my  heart,  in  whatever  position  you  find 
yourself,  rely  upon  my  friendship  and  the  keen  interest  that 
I  feel  in  you,  and  speak  to  me  with  confidence  of  all  that 
touches  you.  I  dare  to  say  that  I  deserve  it,  because  of  the 
true  feelings  that  I  have  for  you,  and  the  tender  interest 
inspired  in  me  by  all  the  children  of  your  honoured  and 
loving  mother.  I  kiss  you  and  love  you  with  all  my  heart. 
I  ask  of  you  the  favour  not  to  be  satisfied  by  reading  my 
letter  once. 


1789]  MADAME   ^LISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  41 

To  the  Marquise  de  Bomhelles. 

May  29, 1789. 

My  heart  is  so  full  of  the  king's  troubles  that  I  cannot 
write  to  you  of  other  things.  All  goes  worse  than  ever. 
The  king  alone  seems  satisfied  with  the  turn  that  things  are 
taking.  Few  sovereigns  in  his  place  would  be ;  but  he  has 
about  it  all  a  manner  of  seeing  which  is  too  lucky  for  him. 
The  deputies,  victims  of  their  passions,  of  their  weakness,  or 
of  seduction,  are  rushing  to  their  ruin,  and  that  of  the  throne 
and  the  whole  kingdom.  If  at  this  moment  the  king  has 
not  the  necessary  sternness  to  cut  off  at  least  three  heads,  all 
is  lost, 

I  do  not  ask  you  to  return ;  you  might  find  the  roads  all 
bloody.  As  for  me,  I  have  sworn  not  to  leave  my  brother, 
and  I  shall  keep  my  oath. 

Versailles,  July  15,  1789. 

How  kind  you  are,  my  heart !  All  the  dreadful  news 
of  yesterday  [storming  and  destruction  of  the  Bastille  by 
the  populace]  did  not  make  me  weep,  but  your  letter,  bring- 
ing consolation  into  my  heart  through  the  friendship  you 
show  me,  made  me  shed  many  tears.  It  will  be  sad  for  me 
to  go  without  you.  I  do  not  know  if  the  king  will  leave 
Versailles.  I  will  do  what  you  wish  if  there  is  a  question  of 
it.  I  do  not  know  what  I  desire  as  to  that.  God  knows  the 
best  course  to  take.  We  have  a  pious  man  at  the  head  of 
the  Council  [Baron  de  Breteuil]  and  perhaps  he  will  en- 
lighten it.  Pray  much,  my  heart ;  spare  yourself,  take  care 
of  yourself,  do  not  trouble  your  milk.  You  would  do  wrong 
I  think,  to  go  out ;  therefore,  my  dear,  I  make  the  sacrifice 
of  seeing  you.  Be  convinced  of  how  much  it  costs  my  heart. 
I  love  you,  dear,  more  than  I  can  tell.  At  all  times,  in  all 
moments  I  shaU  think  the  same. 


42  LIFK   AND   LK'n-KHS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

1  hope  the  evil  is  not  as  great  as  they  think  it.  What 
makes  me  believe  this  is  the  calmness  at  Versailles.  It  was 
not  very  certain  yesterday  that  M.  de  Launay  was  hanged ; 
they  had  mistaken  another  man  fur  him  in  the  course  of  the 
day.  I  will  attach  myself,  as  you  advise,  to  the  chariot  of 
Monsieur,  but  I  think  its  wheels  are  worthless.  I  don't 
know  why  it  is,  but  I  am  always  ready  to  hope.  Do  not 
imitate  me ;  it  is  better  to  fear  without  reason  than  to  hope 
without  it ;  the  moment  when  the  eyes  open  is  less  painful. 

Paris,  October  8,  1789. 

My  date  alone  will  tell  you  to  what  a  point  our  misfortunes 
have  come.  AVe  have  left  the  cradle  of  our  childhood  — 
what  am  I  saying  ?  left !  we  were  torn  from  it.  What  a  jour- 
ney !  what  sights  !  Never,  never  will  they  be  effaced  from 
my  memor}'.  .  .  .  What  is  certain  is  that  we  are  prisoners 
here ;  my  brother  does  not  believe  it,  but  time  will  prove  it  to 
him.  Our  friends  are  here ;  they  think  as  I  do  that  we  are 
lost. 

To  the  Ahhe  de  Lubersac. 

October  16,  1789. 

I  cannot  resist,  monsieur,  the  desire  to  give  you  news  of 
me.  I  know  the  interest  that  you  are  kind  enough  to  feel, 
and  I  doubt  not  it  will  bring  me  help.  Believe  that  in  the 
midst  of  the  trouble  and  horror  that  pursued  us  I  thought  of 
you,  of  the  pain  you  would  feel,  and  the  sight  of  your  hand- 
writing has  brought  me  consolation.  Ah !  monsieur,  what 
days  were  those  of  Monday  and  Tuesday  [5th  and  6th  of 
October]  !  But  they  ended  better  than  the  cruelties  that 
took  place  during  the  night  could  have  made  us  expect.  As 
soon  as  we  entered  Paris  we  began  to  feel  hope  in  spite  of 
the  dreadful  cries  that  we  heard.  But  those  of  the  people 
who  surrounded  our  caniage  were  better.     The  queen,  who 


1789]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  43 

has  incredible  courage,  begins  to  be  better  liked  by  the 
people.  1  hope  that  with  time  and  steadily  sustained  con- 
duct we  may  recover  the  atfection  of  the  Parisians,  who  have 
only  been  misled. 

But  the  men  of  Versailles,  monsieur !  Did  you  ever  know 
a  more  frightful  ingratitude  ?  No,  I  think  that  God  in  his 
anger  has  peopled  that  town  with  monsters  from  hell.  How 
much  time  will  be  needed  to  make  them  conscious  of  their 
crimes !  If  I  were  king,  I  should  need  much  to  make  me 
believe  in  their  repentance.  How  ungrateful  to  an  honest 
man  !  Will  you  believe,  monsieur,  that  our  misfortunes,  far 
from  bringing  me  to  God,  give  me  a  positive  disgust  for  all 
that  is  prayer.  Ask  of  Heaven  for  me  the  grace  not  to  aban- 
don it  wholly.  I  ask  of  you  this  favour ;  and  also,  preach  to 
me  a  little,  I  beg  of  you ;  you  know  the  confidence  that  I 
have  in  you.  Pray  also  that  all  the  reverses  of  France 
may  bring  back  to  their  better  selves  those  who  have  con- 
tributed to  them  by  their  irreligion.  Adieu,  monsieur; 
believe  in  the  esteem  I  have  for  you,  and  the  regret  I  feel  at 
yoiu-  being  so  far  away  from  me. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Bombelles. 

December  8,  1789. 

I   am  very   glad.  Mademoiselle   Bombeliuette,  that   you 

have  received  my  letter,  as  it  gives  you  pleasure,  and  I  am 

angry  with  it  for  being  so  long  on  the  way.     You  have  no 

idea  what  an  uproar  there  has  been  to-day  at  the  Assembly. 

We  heard  the  shouts  in  passing  along  the  terrace  of  the 

Feuillants.     It   was   horrible.     They  wanted   to   rescind    a 

decree  passed  Saturday ;  I  hope  they  will  not  do  it,  for  the 

decree  seems  to  me  very  reasonable.     You  will  see  it  all  in 

the  newspapers. 

T  have  not  made  it  a  point  of  courage  to  refrain  from 
4  Mem.  Ver.  i) 


44  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [chap.  ii. 

speaking  to  you  of  MontreuiL  You  judge  rae,  my  heart,  too 
favourably.  Apparently  I  was  not  thinking  of  it  when  I 
wrote  to  you.  I  often  have  news  of  it.  Jacques  comes  daily 
to  bring  my  cream.  Fleury,  Coupr}'-,  ^larie,  and  Mrae.  du 
Coudray  come  to  see  me  from  time  to  time.  They  all  seem 
to  love  me  still;  and  M.  Huret  —  I  forgot  him  —  is  not  very 
bad.  Now,  about  the  house.  The  salon  was  being  furnished 
when  I  left  it;  it  promised  to  be  very  pleasant.  Jacques 
is  in  his  new  lodging.  Mme.  Jacques  is  pregnant ;  so  are 
all  my  cows ;  a  calf  has  just  been  born.  The  hens  I  will 
not  say  much  about,  because  I  have  rather  neglected  to 
inquire  for  them.  I  don't  know  if  you  saw  my  little  cabi- 
net after  it  was  finished.  It  is  very  pretty.  My  library 
is  almost  finished.^  As  for  the  chapel,  Corille  is  working 
there  all  alone ;  you  can  imagine  how  fast  it  goes  on !  It 
is  out  of  charity  to  him  that  I  let  him  continue  to  put  on 
a  little  plaster ;  as  he  is  quite  alone  it  cannot  be  called  an 
expense.  I  am  grieved  not  to  go  there  as  you  can  easUy 
believe ;  but  horses  are  to  me  a  still  greater  privation. 
However,  I  think  as  little  as  I  can  about  it ;  though  I  feel 
that  as  my  blood  grows  calmer,  that  particular  privation 
makes  itself  more  and  more  felt ;  but  I  shall  have  all  the 
more  pleasure  when  I  can  satisfy  that  taste. 

And  that  poor  Saiut-Cyr,  ah  !  how  unfortunate  it  is !  Do 
you  remember  Croisard,  the  son  of  my  sister's  wardrobe 
woman?  Well,  he  is  to-day  attached  to  my  steps  in  the 
quality  of  captain  of  the  guard.  I  say  attached,  because 
the  guards  never  quit  us  more  than  the  shadow  of  our 
bodies.  You  need  not  think  it  annoys  me.  As  my  move- 
ments are  not  varied,  I  do  not  care.  After  all,  I  can  walk 
in  the  garden  as  much  as  I  like.     To-day  I  walked  a  full 

hour. 

1  See  Appendix. 


1790]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE  45 

February  20,  1790. 

You  will  only  have  a  line  from  me  to-day,  my  poor 
Bombe ;  I  was  told  too  late  of  an  opportunity,  and  besides, 
my  head  and  heart  are  so  full  of  what  happened  yesterday 
that  I  have  no  possibility  of  thinking  of  anything  else. 
Poor  M.  de  Favras  was  hanged  yesterday.  I  hope  that  his 
blood  may  not  fall  back  upon  his  judges.  No  one  (except 
the  populace,  and  that  class  of  beings  to  whom  we  must 
not  give  the  name  of  men  —  it  would  be  to  degrade  human- 
ity) understands  why  he  was  condemned.  He  had  the 
imprudence  to  wish  to  serve  his  king ;  that  was  his  crime. 
I  hope  that  this  unjust  execution  will  have  the  effect  of 
persecutions,  and  that  from  his  ashes  will  arise  men  who  still 
love  their  country,  and  will  avenge  it  on  the  traitors  who 
are  deceiving  it.  I  hope  also  that  Heaven,  in  favour  of 
the  courage  he  showed  during  the  four  hours  he  was  kept 
at  the  Hotel-de-Ville  before  his  execution  [when  he  was 
tortured  and  insulted],  will  have  pardoned  him  his  sins. 
Pray  to  God  for  him,  my  heart;  you  cannot  do  a  better 
work. 

The  Assembly  is  still  the  same ;  the  monsters  are  the 
masters.  The  king  —  can  you  believe  it  ?  —  is  not  to  have 
the  necessary  executive  power  to  keep  him  from  being 
a])solutely  null  in  his  kingdom.  For  the  last  four  days 
they  have  discussed  a  law  to  pacify  the  disturbances,  but 
they  have  not  ceased  to  busy  themselves  about  other  things 
far  less  essential  to  the  happiness  of  men.  Well,  God  will 
reward  the  good  in  heaven,  and  punish  those  who  deceive 
the  people.  The  king,  and  others,  from  the  integrity  of 
their  own  natures,  cannot  bring  themselves  to  see  the  evil 
^such  as  it  is. 

Adieu,  my  little  one ;  I  am  well ;  I  love  you  much ;  be 
the  same,  for  love  of   your  princess,  and  let  us  hope  for 


46  LIFE   AND   LKTTErvS   OF  [chap,  ii 

happier  days.     Ali :  liow  we  sliall  enjoy  them.     I  kiss  your 
little  chiKlivn  wiih  all  my  heai't. 

You  know  the  rules  just  made  for  monks  and  nuns.  Say 
nothing  to  any  one,  but  I  think  many  men,  and  even  nuns 
will  leave  their  convents.  I  hope  that  Saint-Cyr  will 
undergo  uo  change ;  but  its  fate  is  not  yet  decided. 

March  1,  1790. 

Since  the  king  has  taken  that  step  [his  appearance  before 
the  Constituent  Assembly  Feb.  4,  1790],  a  step  which  puts 
him,  they  say,  at  the  head  of  the  Ee volution,  and  which,  to 
my  mmd,  takes  from  him  the  remains  of  the  crown  that  he 
still  had,  the  Assembly  has  not  once  thought  of  doing  any- 
thing for  him.  Madness  follows  madness,  and  good  will 
certainly  never  come  of  it.  .  .  .  If  we  had  known  how  to 
profit  by  occasions,  believe  me,  we  could  have  done  well. 
But  it  was  necessary  to  have  firmness,  it  was  necessary  to 
face  danger;  we  should  have  come  out  conquerors.  ...  I 
consider  civil  war  as  necessary.  In  the  first  place,  I  think 
it  already  exists ;  because,  every  time  a  kingdom  is  divided 
into  two  parties,  every  time  the  weaker  party  can  only  save 
its  life  by  letting  itself  be  despoiled,  it  is  impossible,  I  think, 
not  to  call  that  civil  war.  Moreover,  anarchy  never  can  end 
without  it ;  the  longer  it  is  delayed,  the  more  blood  will  be 
shed.  That  is  my  principle  ;  and  if  I  were  king  it  would  be 
my  guide ;  and  perhaps  it  would  avert  great  evils.  But  as,  God 
be  thanked,  I  do  not  govern,  I  content  myself,  while  approv- 
ing my  brother's  projects,  with  telling  him  incessantly  that 
he  caimot  be  too  cautious  and  that  he  ought  to  risk  nothing. 

I  am  not  surprised  that  the  step  he  took  on  the  4th  of  Feb- 
ruary has  done  him  gi-eat  harm  in  the  eyes  of  foreigners.  I 
hope,  nevertheless,  that  it  has  not  discouraged  our  allies,  and 
that  they  will  at  last  take  pity  on  us.     Our  stay  here  is  a 


1790]  MADAME   SLISaBETH  DE   FRANCE.  47 

great  injury  to  our  prospects.  I  would  give  all  the  world  to 
be  out  of  Paris.  It  will  be  very  difficult,  but  still,  I  hope  it 
may  come  about.  Though  I  thought  for  a  moment  that  we 
did  right  in  coming  to  Paris,  I  have  long  changed  my  mind. 
If  we  had  known,  my  heart,  how  to  profit  by  that  moment, 
be  sure  that  we  could  then  have  done  great  good.  But  it 
needed  firmness,  it  needed  not  to  fear  that  the  provinces 
would  rise  against  the  capital;  it  needed  that  we  should 
face  dangers ;  had  we  done  so,  we  should  have  issued 
victors. 

May  18,  1790. 

You  will  have  seen  by  the  public  papers,  my  dear  child, 
that  there  has  been  some  question  of  your  husband  in  the 
Assembly,  but  you  will  also  have  seen  that  they  would  not 
even  listen  to  M.  de  Lameth.  So,  my  heart,  you  need  not 
be  uneasy.  Some  one  said,  apropos  of  M.  de  Lameth's 
speech,  that  he  apparently  feared  that  your  husband  would 
make  Venice  aristocratic,  and  so,  wanted  to  get  him  away. 
I  thought  that  charming.  Your  mother,  who  assuredly  is 
not  cold  as  to  your  interests,  is  not  at  all  troubled  by  what 
took  place.  Therefore,  my  heart,  let  the  storm  growl,  and  do 
not  worry. 

At  last  we  are  let  out  of  our  den.  The  king  is  to  ride  out 
on  horseback  to-day  for  the  third  time ;  and  I  have  been  out 
once.  I  was  not  very  tired,  and  I  hope  to  go  again  on  Fri- 
day. I  am  going  this  morning  to  Bellevue.  I  want  to  see 
an  English  garden  and  I  am  going  for  that.  During  that 
time  the  Assembly  will  probably  be  busy  in  taking  from  the 
king  the  right  to  wear  his  crown,  which  is  about  all  that  is 
left  to  him. 

June  27,  1700. 

It  is  long  since  I  have  written  to  you,  my  little  Bombeli- 
nette ;  so  I  do  it  to-night  in  advance,  not  to  be  taken  short 


48  Ml"'''    AND   LKITERS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

bv  tlio  ]x"»st,  which  often  happens  to  those  who  have  a  taste 
for  sacred  idleness.  I  shall  not  talk  to  you  about  the  decrees 
that  are  issued  daily,  not  even  of  the  one  put  forth  on  a  cer- 
tain Saturday  [abolition  of  titles  of  nobility].  It  does  not 
grieve  the  persons  it  attacks,  but  it  does  afflict  the  malevolent 
and  those  who  issued  it,  because  in  all  societies  it  has  been 
made  a  subject  of  much  diversion.  As  for  me,  I  expect  to 
call  myself  Mademoiselle  Capet,  or  Hugues,  or  Eobert,  for 
I  don't  think  I  shall  be  allowed  to  take  my  real  name, —  de 
France.  All  this  amuses  me  much,  and  if  those  gentlemen 
would  issue  only  such  decrees  as  that,  I  would  add  love  to 
the  profound  respect  I  already  feel  for  them. 

You  will  think  my  style  a  little  frivolous,  considering  the 
circumstances,  but  as  there  is  no  counter-revolution  in  it,  I 
can  be  forgiven.  Far  from  thinking  of  counter-revolutions 
we  are  about  to  rejoice  (two  weeks  hence)  with  all  the  mili- 
tia of  the  kingdom  and  celebrate  the  famous  days  of  July  14 
and  15,  of  which  you  may  perhaps  have  heard.  They  are 
making  ready  the  Champs  de  Mars,  which  can  contain,  they 
say,  six  hundred  thousand  souls.  I  hope  for  their  health 
and  mine,  that  it  will  not  be  as  hot  as  it  is  this  week,  other- 
wise, with  the  liking  that  I  have  for  heat,  I  believe  I  should 
explode.  Pardon  this  nonsense  ;  but  I  was  so  suffocated 
last  week,  at  the  review  and  in  my  own  little  room,  that 
I  am  still  dazed.  Besides,  one  must  laugh  a  little,  it  does 
one  good.  Mme.  d'Aumale  always  told  me,  when  I  was  a 
child,  to  laugh,  because  it  dilated  the  lungs. 

I  finish  my  letter  at  Saint-Cloud ;  here  I  am,  established 
in  the  garden,  with  my  desk  and  a  book  in  my  hand, 
and  here  I  get  patience  and  strength  for  the  rest  that  I 
have  to  do.  Adieu ;  I  love  and  kiss  you  with  all  my 
heart.  Have  you  weaned  your  little  monster,  and  how  are 
you  ? 


1790]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  49 

July  10,  1790. 
I  received  your  letter  by  the  gentleman  who  has  re- 
turned to  Venice,  but  too  late  to  answer  it  by  him.  We 
touch,  my  dear  child,  as  the  song  says,  the  crucial  moment 
of  the  Federation.  It  will  take  place  Wednesday,  and  I 
am  convinced  that  nothing  very  grievous  will  happen. 
The  Due  d'Orl^ans  is  not  yet  here ;  perhaps  he  will  come 
to-night  or  to-morrow ;  perhaps  he  will  not  come  at  all. 
I  am  of  opinion  that  it  is  of  no  consequence.  He  has 
fallen  into  such  contempt  that  his  presence  will  cause 
but  little  excitement.  The  Assembly  seems  decidedly  sepa- 
rated into  two  parties :  that  of  M.  de  la  Fayette,  and  that  of 
the  Due  d'Orl^ans  formerly  called  that  of  the  Lameths.  I 
say  this  because  the  public  believes  it ;  but,  I  myself  am  of 
opinion  that  they  are  not  as  ill  together  as  they  want  it  to 
appear.  Whether  that  is  so,  or  is  not  so,  it  seems  that 
M.  de  la  Fayette's  party  is  much  the  more  considerable ; 
and  that  ought  to  be  a  good  thing,  because  he  is  less 
sanguinary,  and  seems  to  wish  to  serve  the  king  by  con- 
solidating the  immortal  work  to  which  Target  gave  birth 
February  4,  of  this  year  90.  All  the  reflections  you  make 
on  the  stay  of  the  king  [in  Paris]  are  very  just;  I  have 
long  been  convinced  of  it.  But  nothing  of  all  that  will 
happen,  unless  Heaven  takes  part  therein.  Pray  for  that 
strongly,  for  we  need  it  much. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Raigecourt. 

July  20,  1790. 

Do  not  come  here,  my  heart;  all  is  calm,  but  you  are 
better  in  the  country ;  I  do  not  need  you  for  the  week's  ser- 
vice ;  your  husljaud  wishes  you  to  stay  with  your  sister-in- 
law  ;  therefore  as  a  submissive  wife,  do  not  stir. 

Paris  was  in  great  disturbance  yesterday,  but  to-night  all  ia 


ilO  UVK   AND   LETTERS   OF  [cnxr.  u. 

very  quiet  The  States-General  are  still  issiiing  decrees  that 
have  not  common-sense.  I  am  anxious  lest  the  little  line  I 
wrote  you  may  bring  you  back  ;  reassure  me  and  tell  me  you 
are  still  at  Marseille  [the  chateau  de  Marseille  in  Picardy]. 
Be  at  ease  about  your  husband,  your  brother,  and  all  who 
are  dear  to  you ;  they  run  no  risks,  and  will  run  none.  Adieu ; 
I  kiss  you  with  all  my  heart;  I  am  very  tranquil,  and  you 
can  be  so  entirely. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Montiers} 

August  20, 1790. 

I  have  received  your  letter,  my  dear  child;  it  touched 
me  very  much  ;  I  have  never  doubted  your  feelings  for  me, 
but  the  signs  you  show  of  it  give  me  great  pleasure.  It 
would  have  been  infinitely  agreeable  to  me  to  have  seen  you 
again  this  autumn,  but  I  feel  the  position  of  your  husband 
and  I  consent  strongly  to  the  plan  he  has  formed  of  spending 
the  winter  in  foreign  countries.  I  will  even  own  that  your 
position  makes  me  desire  it ;  this  country  is  tranquil,  but 
from  one  moment  to  another  it  may  be  so  no  longer.  You 
are  too  excitable  to  allow  of  your  confinement  in  a  place 
where  from  day  to  day  an  uprising  is  to  be  feared;  your 
health  could  not  resist  it ;  moreover,  with  your  disposition, 
recovery  from  confinement  would  be  much  more  serious. 
Use  all  these  reflections  to  aid  you,  my  heart,  in  making 
the  sacrifice  that  your  husband's  fortune  and  his  position 
oblige  you  to  make.     If  telling  you  that  T  approve  of  it  can 

1  The  Marquise  des  iSfontiers  (Mile,  de  la  Briffe)  had  pjrown  up  from 
childhood  with  the  princess;  she  was  gay,  vivacious,  and  full  of  imagina- 
tion. Madame  Elisaheth's  letters  to  her  take  an  almost  maternal  tone  in 
advising,  warning,  and  directing  "  my  dear  Demon,"  as  she  often  called 
her.  These  friends  were  all  Madame  Elisabeth's  ladies-in-waiting,  and  all 
were  anxious  to  return  to  her  in  her  cruel  isolation  ;  but  although  she  was 
BO  dependent  herself  on  friendship  she  would  not,  for  their  sakes,  let  them 
come  to  her.  —  Tb. 


1790]  MADAME   ELISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  51 

make  you  bear  it  better,  I  shall  repeat  it  to  you  incessantly. 
But,  my  heart,  what  I  cannot  repeat  to  you  too  often,  what  I 
wish  could  be  engraved  upon  your  heart  and  mind,  is  that  this 
is  a  decisive  moment  for  your  happiness  and  your  reputation. 
You  are  about  to  be  trusted  to  yourself  in  a  foreign  country, 
where  you  can  receive  no  coimsel  but  your  own.  Perhaps 
you  will  meet  there  Parisian  men  whose  reputations  are  not 
very  good ;  it  is  difficult  in  a  foreign  country  not  to  receive 
one's  compatriots,  but  do  so  with  such  prudence  and  regulate 
your  actions  with  so  much  reason  that  no  one  can  make  talk 
about  you. 

Above  all,  my  heart,  seek  to  please  your  husband.  Though 
you  have  never  spoken  to  me  about  him,  I  know  enough  of 
him  to  know  that  he  has  good  qualities,  though  he  may  also 
have  some  that  do  not  please  you  so  well.  Make  to  yourself 
a  law  not  to  dwell  upon  those,  and  above  all,  not  to  let  any 
one  speak  of  them  to  you ;  you  owe  this  to  him,  and  you  owe 
it  to  yourself.  Try  to  fix  his  heart.  If  you  possess  it,  you 
will  always  be  happy.  Make  his  house  agreeable  to  him ; 
let  him  find  in  it  a  wife  eager  to  give  him  pleasure, 
interested  in  her  duties  and  her  children,  and  you  will 
gain  his  confidence.  If  you  once  have  that,  you  can  do, 
with  the  intelligence  that  Heaven  has  given  you  and  a 
little  skill,  all  that  you  wish.  But,  dear  child,  above  all 
sanctify  your  good  qualities  by  loving  God ;  practise  your 
religion;  you  will  find  strength  in  that,  a  resource  in  all 
your  troubles,  and  consolations  that  it  alone  can  give. 
Ah!  is  there  a  happiness  greater  than  that  of  being  well 
with  one's  conscience  ?  Preserve  it,  that  happLuess,  and 
you  will  see  that  the  tortures  of  life  are  little,  indeed,  com- 
pared to  the  tortures  of  those  who  give  themselves  up  to  all 
the  passions. 

Do  not  let  the  piety  of  your  mother-in-law  disgust  you. 


52  LIFE   AND  LETTERS   OF  [rnxP.  ii. 

There  are  persons  to  whom  Heaven  has  not  given  the  grace 
of  knowing  it  in  its  true  light ;  pray  to  Heaven  to  enlighten 
her,  I  am  glad  that  your  husband  sees  her  defects,  but  I 
should  be  sorry  if  by  jesting  or  otherwise,  you  made  him  re- 
mark upon  them.  Forgive,  my  dear  heart,  all  this  prating ; 
but  I  love  you  too  well  not  to  say  to  you  that  which  I  think 
will  be  useful  to  your  happiness.  You  tell  me  with  the 
amiability  of  which  you  are  so  capable,  that  if  you  are  worth 
anything  in  life  you  owe  it  to  me ;  take  care,  that  is  encour- 
aging me  to  tire  you  again. 

Adieu,  my  heart ;  write  me  as  often  as  you  have  the  desire 
to  do  so.  If  you  have  need  to  open  your  heart,  open  it  to 
me,  and  believe  that  you  cannot  do  so  to  any  one  who  loves 
you  more  tenderly  than  I. 

I  am  forgetting  to  reply  about  M.  d'A.  Not  being  able, 
in  view  of  the  present  position  of  my  affairs  to  do  anything 
for  him  just  now,  I  desire  you  to  tell  the  person  who  spoke 
to  you  to  send  you  word  if  he  should  be  in  a  more  critical 
position ;  then,  I  will  do  what  I  possibly  can.  Say  many 
things  from  me  to  your  mother-in-law,  to  whom  I  will 
write  before  long. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Raigecourt. 

August  29,  1790. 

Good-morning,  my  poor  Raigecourt;  here  we  are  back  at 
Saint-Cloud  to  my  great  satisfaction  ;  Paris  is  fine,  but  in 
perspective ;  here  I  have  the  happiness  of  seeing  as  much  of 
it  as  I  wish ;  indeed,  in  my  little  garden  I  can  scarcely  see 
more  than  the  sky.  I  no  longer  hear  those  villanous  criers 
who,  of  late,  not  content  with  standing  at  the  gates  of  the 
Tuileries,  have  roamed  the  gardens,  that  no  one  might  fail  to 
hear  their  infamies. 

For  the  rest,  if  you  want  news  of  my  little  health  I  shall 


1790]  MADAME  ifeLISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  53 

tell  you  that  I  still  have  torpor  in  my  legs.^  Still,  if  I  may 
trust  the  symptoms  of  that  horrid  malady,  I  fancy  the  cure 
is  at  hand.  But  I  have  already  been  mistaken  so  many 
times,  that  I  dare  not  flatter  myself  much ;  in  fact,  sincerely, 
I  do  not  believe  in  it.  Perhaps,  if  I  had  courage,  I  might 
even  say  I  do  not  desire  it ;  but  you  know  that  I  am  weak, 
and  that  I  dread  to  expose  myself  to  great  pain.  .  .  . 

I  am  very  impatient  to  get  news  of  you,  to  know  you  are 
settled ;  I  wish  I  could  say  happy,  but  that,  I  feel,  is  very 
difficult  [Mme.  de  Eaigecourt  had  just  lost  a  little  son]. 
Fortunately,  you  can  give  yourself  up  to  devotion.  That 
will  be  your  consolation,  your  strength.  Do  not  burden 
your  spirit  with  scruples ;  that  would  insult  God  who  has 
done  you  so  many  favours,  and  who  deserves  that  you  should 
go  to  him  with  the  confidence  of  a  child.  Make  use  of  the 
instructions  you  have  received  and  of  your  rector's  counsels 
to  quiet  the  over-sensitiveness  of  your  feehngs  towards  God. 
,  .  .  Yes,  your  soul  is  too  sensitive :  a  trifle  hurts  it ; 
God  is  more  indulgent  to  his  creatures ;  he  knows  our  weak- 
ness, but  in  spite  of  it,  he  wants  to  crown  us  with  all  his 
favours,  and,  in  return  for  so  much  kindness  he  asks  for  our 
confidence  and  our  complete  abandonment  to  his  will.  Ah ! 
how,  at  this  present  moment  do  we  need  to  repeat  to  our- 
selves that  truth !  You  will  often  need  to  have  recourse  to 
him  to  fortify  yourself ;  do  not  therefore  put  yourself  in  a 
position  to  be  deprived  of  the  divine  nourishment.  This  is 
a  real  temptation  which  you  ought  to  fight  at  its  birth ;  if 
you  let  it  make  progress  you  will  be  very  unhappy,  you 

^  This  expression,  and  others  of  the  same  kind,  Madame  Elisabeth  uses 
to  express  her  wish  that  the  king  would  leave  Paris,  the  hopes  he  gave  her 
of  it,  and  the  efforts  made  to  prevent  it.  Her  letters  to  Madame  de  Raige- 
court,  who  was  in  France,  where  correspondence  might  he  dangerous,  seem 
less  free  tlian  those  to  Madame  de  Bombelles,  which  went  probably  in  the 
ambassador's  bag,  or  by  private  hand.  —  Tr. 


54  l.IFK   AND   LETTERS   OF  [cu.w.  u. 

will  ofTend  God  ceaselessly.  Here  am  I  preaching  like  the 
peasant  to  his  priest !  but  when  the  public  news  worries  me 
1  liing  myself  into  sermonizing. 

October  24,  1790. 

I  have  just  received  your  second  letter.  Make  ready  to 
receive  a  reproach  in  my  style.  Tell  me  why  you  think 
yourself  obliged  to  be  always  in  violent  states  ?  That  is 
bad  judgment,  my  dear  child.  You  w^LU  make  yourself  ill, 
and  give  your  child  an  inevitable  tendency  towards  melan- 
choly. And  why  ?  because  you  are  not  in  Paris  or  at  Eaige- 
court,  and  because  all  the  stories  people  tell  you  seem  truths 
in  your  eyes.  For  pity's  sake,  do  not  do  so.  Put  into  the 
hands  of  Providence  the  fate  of  those  who  interest  you,  and 
rub  your  eyes  very  hard  to  prevent  their  seeing  black  !  ^ 

As  for  news,  I  only  know  that  infamous  tales  are  still 
told  of  the  queen.  Among  others,  they  say  there  is  an 
intrigue  with  Mir  [abeau],  and  that  it  is  he  who  advises  the 
king !  My  patient  [the  king]  still  has  stiffness  of  the  legs, 
and  I  am  afraid  it  will  attack  the  joints  and  there  will  be 
no  cure  for  it.  As  for  me,  I  submit  myself  to  the  orders  of 
Providence.  To  each  day  its  own  evil.  I  shall  await  the 
last  moment  to  fall  into  despair,  and  in  that  moment  I  hope 
I  shall  do  nothing.  .  .  .  We  are  going  to-morrow,  H. 
and  I,  to  Saint-Cyr,  to  feed  a  little  on  that  celestial  food, 
which  does  me  much  good. 

November  3,  1790. 
Well,  my  poor  Rage,  are  you  getting  accustomed  to  the 
life  you  lead  ?     The  late  master  of  this  place  is  being  perse- 
cuted by  his  creditors  who  will  end  by  killing  all  his  friends 

1  Madame  ^felisabeth  had  exacted  that  Mme.  de  Raigecourt,  who  was 
pregnant,  should  leave  Paris,  events  becoming  more  and  more  alarming. 
Mme.  de  K.  fell  into  a  sort  of  despair  at  the  separation,  and  wanted  to  be 
allowed  to  return  to   Madame  ifelisabeth  at  any  cost.  —  Fk.  Ed. 


1790]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  55 

with  grief.  Nothing  that  happens  can  decide  him  to  part 
from  his  property :  offers  are  made  on  all  sides ;  nothing 
comes  of  them.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  we  must  pray  to 
Providence  to  be  with  him. 

Here  we  are  back  in  Paris ;  if  we  knew  how  to  profit  by 
it  I  would  not  complain ;  but,  as  you  know,  the  chateau  of 
the  Tuileries  will  be  our  habitual  promenade.  "Well,  as  God 
wills ;  if  I  thought  of  myself  only  I  do  not  know  what  I 
should  prefer.  Here  I  am  more  conveniently  placed  for  my 
little  devotions :  but  for  walks  and  the  gaiety  of  the  place, 
Saint-Cloud  is  preferable ;  and  then  the  neighbourhood  of 
Saint-Cyr.  On  the  other  hand,  the  evenings  were  very  long ; 
you  know  I  have  a  horror  of  lights,  or  rather  they  make  me 
so  sleepy  that  I  cannot  read  long  at  a  time.  So  on  the 
whole  I  conclude  that  God  arranges  all  for  the  best,  and 
that  I  ought  to  be  very  glad  to  be  here. 

December  1,  1790. 

Mon  Dieu,  my  poor  Eaigecourt,  what  extraordinary  thing 
have  they  been  telling  you  ?  I  puzzle  my  head  to  guess,  and 
cannot  do  so.  Nothing  has  happened  here.  We  are  still  in 
perfect  tranquillity,  and  I  cannot  conceive  what  you  mean. 

I  have  made  a  mistake  of  twenty-four  hours  as  to  the 
post-day,  which  is  the  reason  this  letter  did  not  go  by  the 
last  courier.  You  now  know  the  decree  about  the  clergy, 
and  I  can  see  from  here,  all  that  you  are  saying,  all  that  you 
are  thinking,  how  you  are  wringing  your  arms,  and  shutting 
your  eyes,  and  saying,  "  Ah !  God  wills  it ;  it  is  well,  it  is 
well,  we  must  submit;"  and  then  you  do  not  submit  any 
more  than  others.  Do  not  go  and  think  you  do  because  you 
are  so  resigned  at  the  first  moment ;  my  Raigecourt's  head 
will  heat;  this  reflection  will  agitate  her,  that  fear  will 
torture  her ;  such  a  person  runs  risks,  what  will  happen  to 


56  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [chjo'.  il. 

him  ?  will  they  force  him  to  act  against  his  duty  and  his 
conscience  ?  etc.,  etc.  And  then,  beliuld  my  llaigecourt  be- 
side herself,  all  the  while  saying:  "  My  God,  I  offer  you  sub- 
mission." Have  the  goodness,  mademoiselle,  not  to  torture 
yourself  in  that  way.  M.  de  Condorcet  has  decided  that  the 
Church  is  not  to  be  persecuted  because  it  would  make  the 
clergy  interesting ;  and  that,  he  says,  would  do  an  infinite 
injuiy  to  the  Constitution.  Therefore,  my  heart,  no  martyr- 
dom, thank  God,  for  I  own  that  I  have  no  fancy  for  that  sort 
of  death. 

December  30, 1790. 

I  see  persecution  coming,  being  in  mortal  anguish  at  the 
acceptance  that  the  king  has  just  given.  God  reserved  us  this 
blow ;  may  it  be  the  last,  and  may  he  not  suffer  that  schism 
be  established :  that  is  all  I  ask.  But  if  the  days  of  persecu- 
tion do  retm-n,  ah !  I  should  ask  of  God  to  take  me  from 
this  world,  for  I  do  not  feel  within  me  the  courage  to  bear 
them.  This  acceptance  [of  the  decree  against  the  clergy] 
was  given  on  Saint  Stephen's  day ;  apparently  that  blessed 
martyr  is  now  to  be  our  model.  Well,  as  you  know,  I  am 
not  afraid  of  stones ;  so  that  suits  me.  They  say  that  seven 
of  the  rectors  of  Paris  have  taken  the  oath.  I  did  not  think 
the  number  would  be  so  large.  All  this  has  a  very  bad 
effect  on  my  soul;  far  from  rendering  me  devout,  it  takes 
away  from  me  all  hope  that  God's  anger  will  be  appeased 
Your  rector  decides  to  follow  the  law  of  the  Gospel  and  not 
the  one  just  made.  I  am  told  that  a  member  of  the  Com- 
mune, wanting  to  persuade  the  rector  of  Sainte-Marguerite, 
said  to  him  that  the  esteem  felt  for  him,  the  preponderance 
that  he  had  in  the  world,  would  do  much  to  restore  peace  by 
influencing  minds.  To  which  he  answered,  "  Monsieur,  the 
reasons  that  you  give  me  are  the  very  ones  that  oblige  me  to 
refuse  the  oath  and  not  act  against  my  conscience." 


1791]  MADAME  :feLISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  57 

May  God  not  abandon  us  wholly ;  it  is  to  that  we  must 
limit  our  hopes.  I  have  no  taste  for  martyrdom  ;  but  I  feel 
that  I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  the  certainty  of  suffering 
it  rather  than  abandon  one  iota  of  my  faith.  I  hope  that  if  I 
am  destined  to  it,  God  will  give  me  strength.  He  is  so  good, 
so  good !  he  is  a  Father,  so  concerned  for  the  true  welfare  of 
his  children  that  we  ought  to  have  all  contidence  in  him. 
Were  you  not  touched  on  the  Epiphany  with  God's  goodness 
in  calling  the  Gentiles  to  him  at  that  moment  ?  Well,  we 
are  the  Gentiles.  Let  us  thank  him  well ;  let  us  be  faithful 
to  our  faith  ;  let  us  not  lose  from  sight  what  we  owe  to  him ; 
and  as  to  all  the  rest,  let  us  abandon  ourselves  to  him  with 
true  filial  confidence. 

February  15,  1791. 

I  am  grieved  at  the  unnecessary  fear  that  M.  de  B.  has 
caused  you.  We  are  still  far  from  all  those  evils  he  has  put 
into  your  head.  ...  I  am  sorry  to  be  so  far  from  you  and  to 
be  unable  to  talk  as  I  would  like  to  do ;  but,  my  heart,  calm 
yourself.  I  know  that  that  seems  difficult,  but  it  is  neces- 
sary. You  excite  your  blood ;  you  make  yourself  more  un- 
happy than  you  need  be :  all  that,  my  heart,  is  not  in  the 
order  of  Providence.  We  must  submit  to  God's  decrees,  and 
that  submission  must  bring  calmness.  Otherwise,  it  is  on 
our  lips  only,  not  in  our  heart.  When  Jesus  Christ  was  be- 
trayed, abandoned,  it  was  only  his  heart  which  suffered  from 
those  outrages ;  his  exterior  was  calm,  and  proved  that  God 
was  really  in  him.  We  ought  to  imitate  him,  and  God  ought 
to  be  in  us.  Therefore,  calm  yourself,  submit,  and  adore  in 
peace  the  decrees  of  Providence,  without  casting  your  eyes 
upon  a  future  which  is  dreadful  to  whose  sees  with  human 
eyes  alone.  Happily,  you  are  not  in  that  case;  God  has 
crowned  you  with  so  many  favours  that  you  will  apply  your 
virtue  to  wait  patiently  for  the  end  of  his  wrath. 


58  LIFE   AND   LETTKKS   OF  [ciiai-.  ii. 

As  for  me,  I  am  not  in  your  condition.  I  will  not  say  that 
virtue  is  the  cause  of  this  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  many  troubles 
and  anxieties,  I  am  more  within  reach  of  consolations ;  I  am 
calm,  and  I  hope  for  a  happy  eternity.  ...  As  for  what  you 
say  of  me,  believe,  my  heart,  that  I  shall  never  fail  in  honour, 
and  that  I  shall  always  know  how  to  fulfil  the  obligations 
that  my  principles,  my  position,  and  my  reputation  impose 
upon  me.  I  hope  that  God  will  give  me  the  light  necessary 
to  guide  me  wisely,  and  to  keep  me  from  wandering  from  the 
path  that  he  marks  out  for  me.  But  to  judge  of  all  that,  my 
heart,  others  must  be  near  me.  From  a  distance,  a  chival- 
rous act  appears  enchanting ;  seen  near-by  it  is  often  found  to 
be  an  act  of  vexation,  or  of  some  other  feeling  not  worth 
more  in  the  eyes  of  the  wise  and  good. 

March  2, 1791. 

I  have  received  your  little  letter.  I  do  not  think  that  the 
person  of  whom  you  speak  ever  had  the  intention  towards 
others  that  is  attributed  to  her.  She  has  defects,  but  I  never 
knew  her  to  have  that  one.  If  D.  [d'Artois]  would  break  off 
his  alliance  with  Calonne,  by  travelling  in  another  direc- 
tion, that  would  give  pleasure,  I  am  sure.  As  for  me,  I  de- 
sire it  eagerly  for  the  good  of  one  I  love  so  well,  and  for 
whom,  I  own  to  you,  I  dread  the  intimacy  with  Calonne. 
Do  not  say  this  to  the  man  you  have  seen,  but  you  can  send 
word  of  it  under  the  greatest  secrecy,  to  her  whose  ideas  you 
approve,  even  for  interested  persons ;  I  cannot  myself  enter 
into  any  explanation  with  them,  and  you  would  do  me  a 
kindness  to  take  charge  of  this. 

March  18,  1791. 

I  profit  by  the  departure  of  M.  de  Chamisot  to  tell  you 
many  things.  I  am  infinitely  uneasy  at  the  course  my 
brother  is  about  to  take.  I  believe  that  the  wise  counsels 
that  have  been  given  him  are  not  to  be  followed.     The  little 


1791]  MADAME   ^LISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  59 

unity,  the  little  harmony  that  there  is  among  the  persons 
who  ought  to  be  bound  together  by  an  indissoluble  tie,  make 
me  tremble.  I  wish  I  could  see  in  all  that  only  God's  will ; 
but  I  own  to  you  that  I  often  put  self  into  it.  I  hope  that 
M.  de  Firmont  will  make  me  attain,  by  his  counsels,  to  that 
necessary  point  of  safety.  You  will  see  from  this  that  it  is 
he  whom  I  have  chosen  to  take  the  place  of  the  Abb^  Madier 
in  my  confidence.  I  confessed  yesterday,  and  I  was  perfect- 
ly content  with  him.  He  has  intelligence,  gentleness,  a  great 
knowledge  of  the  human  heart.  I  hope  to  find  in  him  what 
I  have  long  lacked  to  enable  me  to  make  progress  in  piety. 
Thank  God  for  me,  my  heart,  that  he  has  thus,  by  a  peculiar 
stroke  of  his  providence,  led  me  to  M.  de  Firmont,  and  ask 
him  to  make  me  faithful  in  executing  the  orders  he  may 
give  me  through  that  organ. 

I  have  no  news  to  send  you  from  here  ;  all  is  much  the  same. 
The  evil-minded  amuse  themselves  at  our  expense.  France 
is  about  to  perish.     God  alone  can  save  it.     I  hope  he  will. 

Extract  from  a  letter  of  the  Abbe  Edgeioorth  de  Firmont  to 
a  frieiid,  published  in  his  Memoirs} 

Though  a  foreigner,  and  very  little  worthy  to  be  distin- 
guished by  the  princess,  I  soon  became  her  friend.  She  gave 
me  her  unlimited  confidence,  but  I  was  known  to  neither  the 
king  nor  the  queen.  Nevertheless,  they  often  heard  me  men- 
tioned, and  during  the  last  period  of  their  reign  they  several 
times  expressed  their  surprise  at  the  facility  with  which  I  was 
allowed  to  enter  the  palace,  while  around  them  there  was 
nothing  but  surveillance  and  terror.  It  is  a  fact  that  I  never 
saw  the  danger  for  what  it  really  was ;  and  while  no  other 

1  He  was  an  Irishman,  and  was  recommended  to  Madame  Elisabeth,  for 
her  confessor,  by  the  Superior  of  Foreign  Missions.    It  was  to  him  that 
Louis  XVI.  sent  in  his  last  extremity.  —  Tr. 
5  Mem.  Ver.  9 


60  LIFE   AND   LETTERS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

ecclesiastic  could  appear  at  Court  unless  completely  disguised, 
I  weut  there  in  opeu  day,  two  or  three  times  a  week  without 
changing  my  dress,  lu  truth,  when  I  remember  those  days 
of  horror  1  am  surprised  at  my  courage,  but  I  suppose  that 
Providence  blinded  me  to  danger  intentionally.  Though  my 
presence  excited  some  mm*murs  among  the  guards,  I  never 
received  the  slightest  insult  from  them.  I  continued  thus 
until  the  fatal  day  of  the  arrest  of  the  royal  family.  On  the 
9th  of  August,  1792  —  I  remember  it  well !  —  Madame 
Elisabeth  desired  to  see  me,  and  I  spent  the  greater  part  of 
the  morning  in  her  room,  not  imagining  the  scene  of  horror 
that  was  then  being  prepared  for  the  next  day. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Raigecourt. 

April  3,  1791. 

Ah  !  my  heart,  you  ought  not  to  complain,  your  pregnancy 
has  brought  you  great  good  luck  in  keeping  you  away  from 
schism  and  these  awful  divisions.  ...  I  ask  no  better  than 
to  be  godmother  to  your  little  one.  If  you  like,  I  will  give 
her  the  name  of  H^lfene ;  and  if  you  will  be  pleased  to  give 
birth  to  her  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  3rd  of 
May  [her  own  birthday  and  hour]  it  will  be  very  well,  pro- 
vided it  gives  her  a  happier  future  than  mine,  where  she  wdl 
never  hear  of  States-Generals  or  schisms. 

Mirabeau  has  taken  the  course  of  going  to  see  in  another 
world  if  the  Eevolution  is  approved  of  there.  Good  God ! 
what  an  awakening  his  will  be.  They  say  he  saw  his  rector 
for  an  hour.  He  died  tranquilly,  believing  himself  poisoned ; 
though  he  had  no  symptoms  of  it.  They  showed  him  to  the 
people  after  his  death ;  many  were  grieved ;  the  aristocrats 
regret  him  much.  For  the  last  three  months  he  had  put 
himself  on  the  right  side,  and  they  hoped  in  his  talents. 
For  my  part,  though  very  aristocratic,  I  cannot  help  regard- 


1791]  MADAME   IlLISABETH   DE  FRANCE.  61 

ing  his  death  as  a  mercy  of  Providence  to  this  country.  I 
do  not  believe  that  it  is  by  men  without  principles  and  with- 
out morals  that  God  intends  to  save  us.  I  keep  this  opinion 
to  myself,  as  it  is  not  policy  —  but  I  prefer  a  thousand  times 
religious  policy,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  be  of  my  opinion. 

I  counted  on  having  the  happiness  to  take  the  commimion 
on  Holy  Thursday  and  at  Easter;  but  circumstances  will 
deprive  me  of  it ;  I  fear  to  cause  disturbance  in  the  chateau, 
and  have  it  said  that  my  devotion  was  imprudent ;  a  thing 
that  above  all  others  I  desire  to  avoid,  because  I  have  always 
thought  it  should  be  a  means  to  make  one's  self  loved.  The 
rumour  is  spread  about  Paris  that  the  king  is  going  to-morrow 
to  high-mass  in  the  parish  church ;  I  cannot  bring  myself  to 
believe  it  until  he  has  actually  been  there.  All-powerful 
God !  what  just  punishment  are  you  reserving  for  a  people 
so  misguided  ? 

May  1,  1791. 
I  think  the  reflections  you  make  are  perfectly  just ;  we 
ought  to  guard  ourselves  from  extremes  in  all  opinions.  I 
am  far  from  thinking  that  to  be  attached  to  those  I  love 
forms  an  exclusive  claim  to  put  them  in  offices  ...  I  think 
it  needs  perfect  equality  in  merit,  or  some  great  distinction 
to  give  a  veritable  claim  to  preference.  In  all  things  I  want 
justice  alone  to  guide  my  choice  ;  I  will  even  go  further  and 
say  that  I  want  it  to  carry  the  day  over  any  desire  I  may 
have  to  prefer  one  person  to  another  person,  and  that  friend- 
ship should  yield  to  it.  A  disinterested  friendship  is  the  only 
kind  that  touches  me  (yours  is  that,  and  therefore  I  can  speak 
thus  freely  to  you).  I  feel  that  in  my  position  (of  other 
days)  my  influence  was  employed  to  obtain  favours,  and  I 
lent  myself  to  it  too  zealously. 


62  LIFE   AND   LETTERS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

May  18,  179L 

T  have  received  your  letter;  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  in 
spite  of  its  glodiu.  Believe,  my  heart,  that  I  am  less  unhappy 
than  you  imagine ;  my  vivacity  sustains  me,  and  in  crucial 
moments  God  overwhelms  me  with  kindness.  I  suffered 
much  in  Holy  Week,  but  that  over,  I  have  calmed  myself. 
.  .  .  The  more  the  moment  approaches,^  the  more  I  become, 
like  you,  incredulous.  Nevertheless  the  news  my  brother 
receives  is  satisfactory.  Every  one  says  that  the  principalities 
[German  States]  are  interested  for  us.  I  desire  it  eagerly, 
perhaps  too  eagerly.  ...  It  seems  to  me  that  our  Court  is 
rather  badly  informed  as  to  the  policy  of  the  cabinets  of 
Europe.  I  do  not  know  if  they  distrust  us,  or  whether  we 
have  flattered  ourselves  too  much.  I  own  to  you  that  if  I 
see  the  end  of  this  month  arrive  with  no  appearance  of  any- 
thing, I  shall  have  need  of  great  resignation  to  the  will  of 
God,  to  bear  the  thought  of  passing  another  summer  like  that 
of  1790 ;  and  all  the  more  because  things  have  grown  much 
worse  since  then ;  religion  is  weakened,  and  those  who  were 
attached  to  us  have  left  for  other  countries  where  it  still 
exists.  "What  will  become  of  this  one,  if  Heaven  be  not 
merciful !  .  .  . 

We  take  so  few  precautions  that  I  believe  we  shall  be  here 
when  the  first  drum  beats.  If  things  are  managed  wisely  I 
do  not  think  there  will  be  much  danger;  but  up  to  this  mo- 
ment, I  do  not  see  clear  to  bid  farewell  to  my  dear  country. 
Nevertheless,  I  would  not  answer  that  it  may  not  happen 
some  day,  when  no  one  thinks  of  it.  Lastic,  Tily,  Serent, 
[her  ladies]  they  will  all  be  gone  within  a  month,  forced 
away  by  circumstances  ;  would  that  I  were  gone  too !     I  am 

1  This  is  evidently  an  allusion  to  the  approaching  effort  of  the  king  to 
leave  Paris.  The  parts  omitted  are  omitted  by  the  French  Editor,  not 
by  the  translator.  —  Tk. 


1791]  MADAME   fcLISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  63 

not  sustained  by  your  fine  zeal ;  I  feel  the  need  of  addressing 
myself  to  some  one  who  will  shake  (as  you  call  it)  my  soul. 
I  see  that,  perfect  as  I  thought  myself,  I  should  have  had  to 
spend  at  least  some  centuries  in  purgatory  if  Providence  had 
not  interfered.  Happily  it  has  sent  me  a  confessor  gentle 
without  being  weak,  educated,  enlightened,  knowing  me 
already  better  than  I  do  myself,  and  who  will  not  let  me 
stay  in  my  languor.  But  it  is  now,  my  little  one,  that  I  need 
prayers ;  for  if  I  do  not  profit  by  this  mercy  I  shall  have  a 
terrible  account  to  render.  I  regret  I  did  not  know  him 
earlier,  and  if  I  have  to  leave  him  soon  it  will  be  a  great 
disappointment. 

June  29,  1791.1 

I  hope,  my  heart,  that  your  health  is  good,  and  that  it  does 
not  suffer  from  the  situation  of  your  friend.  Hers  is  excel- 
lent; you  know  that  her  body  is  never  conscious  of  the  sen- 
sations of  her  soul.  This  latter  is  not  what  it  should  be 
towards  its  Creator,  the  indulgence  of  God  is  its  only  hope 
of  mercy.  I  neither  can  nor  will  I  enter  into  details  as 
to  all  that  concerns  me ;  let  it  suffice  you  to  know  that  I  am 
well,  that  I  am  tranquil,  that  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart, 
and  that  I  will  write  to  you  soon  —  if  I  can. 

July  9,  1791. 

I  have  just  received  from  you  the  tiniest  letter  it  is 
possible  to  see ;  but  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  because 
you  send  me  word  that  H^l^ne  and  you  are  both  well ; 
try  to  have  it  last.  For  that  reason  do  not  think  of  com- 
ing here.  No,  my  heart,  the  shocks  to  the  soul  are  less 
dangerous  where  you  are  than  in  Paris.  Stay  there  until 
minds   are  calmer  than   they  are   now.      What   should   I 

1  This  letter  is  written  directly  after  the  fatal  return  from  Varennes. 
—  Te. 


64  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [chap.  ii. 

(io  if  anythmg  happened  here  aud  you  were  here,  too  ? 
I  should  be  doubly  unhappy,  for  with  your  acute  sensibility 
your  milk  would  How  into  your  blood,  aud  you  would  be 
very  ill. 

Paris  is  tranquil  in  appearance.  They  say  that  minds  are 
in  fermentation.  But,  in  fact,  I  know  nothing.  There  is 
some  excitement,  —  to-day  the  women  of  one  of  the  clubs 
came  to  present  a  petition  which  the  Assembly  would  not 
receive.  They  said  they  would  return  to-morrow.  The  peti- 
tion is  to  be  read  at  the  opening  of  the  Assembly ;  I  think  it 
demands  that  there  shall  be  no  longer  a  king.  It  seems  to 
me  impossible  to  foresee  the  action  of  the  Assembly.  Duport, 
Lameth,  Barnave,  Dandr^,  La  Fayette,  are  for  the  monarchy, 
but  I  do  not  know  if  they  can  carry  the  day. 

I  have  been  very  unhappy,  my  heart ;  I  am  still,  especially 
in  not  being  able  to  get  sure  news  from  foreign  countries.  I 
was  able  to  see  my  abb^  yesterday ;  I  talked  very  deeply 
with  him  and  that  wound  me  up  again.  At  present  I  suffer 
much  less  than  you  would  do  in  my  place ;  therefore  be  tran- 
quil about  me.  Try  to  discover  if  a  staff-officer  named 
Goguelat,  escaped  with  M.  de  Bouilld ;  we  are  uneasy  about 
him. 

Ah  !  my  heart,  pray  for  me,  but  especially  for  the  salvation 
of  those  who  may  be  the  victims  of  all  this.  If  I  were  sure 
about  that,  I  should  not  suffer  so  much ;  I  could  say  to  my- 
self that  an  eternity  of  happiness  awaits  them.  Collect  for 
this  prayer  all  the  souls  you  know ;  some  are  more  in- 
terested than  others,  and  have  certainly  thought  of  this. 
What  troubles  each  individual  is  enduring !  More  fortu- 
nate than  some,  I  have  this  week  resumed  my  usual  way  of 
life,  but  my  soul  is  far  from  being  able  to  take  pleasure  in  it. 
Yet  I  am  calm,  and  if  I  did  not  fear  more  for  others  than 
for  myself,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  could  support  with  ease 


1791]  MADAME   ^LISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  65 

my  position,  which,  though  I  am  not  a  prisoner,  is  never- 
theless annoying.  Adieu,  my  heart;  I  love  and  kiss  you 
tenderly. 

To  the  Abbe  de  Lubersac} 

July  29,  1791. 

I  have  just  received  your  letter.  I  hope,  monsieur,  that 
you  do  not  doubt  the  interest  with  which  I  have  read  it. 
Your  health  seems  to  me  less  bad :  but  I  fear  that  the  last 
news  you  will  have  received  from  this  country  will  make  too 
keen  an  impression  on  you.  More  than  ever  is  one  tempted 
to  say  that  a  feeling  heart  is  a  cruel  gift.  Happy  he  who 
can  be  indifferent  to  the  woes  of  his  country,  and  of  all  that 
he  holds  most  dear !  I  have  experienced  how  desirable  that 
state  is  for  this  world,  and  I  live  in  the  hope  that  the  con- 
trary will  be  useful  in  the  other.  Nevertheless,  I  own  to  you 
that  I  am  far  from  the  resignation  I  desire  to  have.  Aban- 
donment to  the  will  of  God  is  so  far  only  on  the  surface  of 
my  mind.  Still,  having  been  for  nearly  a  month  in  a  violent 
state,  I  am  beginning  to  return  to  my  usual  condition ;  events 
seem  to  be  calming  down  and  that  has  caused  it.  God  grant 
that  this  may  last  awhile  and  that  Heaven  will  pity  us.  You 
cannot  imagine  how  fervent  souls  are  redoubling  their  zeal. 
Surely  Heaven  cannot  be  deaf  to  so  many  prayers,  offered 
with  such  trustfulness.  It  is  from  the  heart  of  Jesus 
that  they  seem  to  await  the  favours  of  which  they  are  in 
need ;  the  fervour  of  this  devotion  appears  to  redouble ;  the 
more  our  woes  increase,  the  more  those  prayers  are  offered 
up.  All  the  communities  are  making  them  ;  but  indeed  the 
whole  world  ought  to  unite  to  petition  Heaven.     Unhappily, 

1  The  Abbe  de  Lubersac,  being  Madame  Victoire's  rhaplain,  had  ac- 
companied her  to  Rome.  Madame  :^Iisabeth's  last  letter  to  him  is  dated 
(as  we  shall  see)  July  22,  1792.  His  heart  clung  passionately  to  France. 
Unable  to  live  away  from  it  he  returned  to  Paris  in  August  and  perished 
in  the  massacres  of  September  2  and  3.  —  Tr, 


00  LIFE   AND   LETTERS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

it  is  much  easier  to  speak  strongly  as  to  this  than  to  execute 
it;  I  feel  this  constantly,  and  it  angers  me  instead  of  humili- 
ating me. 

You  ask  me  for  my  advice  on  the  project  you  have  formed. 
If  you  wish  me  to  speak  to  you  frankly,  I  shall  say  that  I 
would  not,  if  I  were  you,  take  the  subject  you  have  chosen. 
"We  are  still  too  corrupted  for  the  virtues  in  which  many 
persons  do  not  believe  at  all  to  have  much  effect.  It  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  give  you  any  information  upon  it,  for 

1  possess  none.  But  I  believe  that  if  you  have  the  desire  to 
write,  all  subjects  of  Christian  morality  would  be  well  treated 
by  you ;  and  if  you  are  willing  that  I  should  still  further 
give  you  my  opinion  I  shall  say  that,  if  I  were  you,  I  would 
choose  a  subject  strong  in  reason  rather  than  in  senti- 
ment; it  is  more  suited  to  the  situation  in  which  your  soul 
now  is.  Remember,  in  reading  this,  that  you  wished  me  to 
say  to  you  what  I  think ;  and  do  not  doubt,  I  entreat  you, 
the  perfect  esteem  I  have  for  you,  or  the  pleasure  your 
letters  give  me. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Bombelles. 

July  10,  1791. 

I  have  received  your  little  letter,  dear  Bombe ;  I  answer  it 
in  the  same  way.  Though  we  differ  in  opinion  the  signs  it 
contains  of  friendship  give  me  great  pleasure.  You  know  I 
am  always  sensitive  to  that,  and  you  can  imagine  that 
in  a  moment  like  this  friendship  has  become  a  thousand-fold 
more  precious  to  me  ....  Paris  and  the  king  are  still  in 
the  same  position ;  the  former  tranquil,  the  second  guarded 
and  not  lost  sight  of  a  moment,  and  so  is  the  queen.  Yester- 
day a  species  of  camp  was  established  under  their  windows, 
for  fear  they  might  jump  into  the  garden  which  is  hermetically 
closgd  and  full  of  sentinels ;  among  them  two  or  three  under 


1791]  MADAME  ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  67 

my  windows.  Adieu,  my  heart,  I  kiss  you  tenderly,  as  well 
as  your  little  one.  They  say  that  the  affair  of  the  king  will 
be  reported  on  soon,  and  that  he  will  then  be  set  at  liberty. 
The  law  against  the  emigres  is  very  severe;  they  forfeit 
three-fifths  of  their  property.  {The  end  of  this  letter  is 
written  in  "  white  ink.") 

No,  my  heart,  I  am  very  far  from  permitting  your  return. 
It  is  not,  assuredly,  that  I  should  not  be  charmed  to  see  you, 
but  because  I  am  convinced  that  you  would  not  be  safe  here. 
Preserve  yourself  for  happier  times,  when  we  may  perhaps 
enjoy  in  peace  the  friendship  that  unites  us.  I  have  been 
very  unhappy ;  I  am  less  so.  If  I  saw  an  end  to  all  this  I 
could  more  easily  endure  what  is  taking  place ;  but  now  is 
the  time  to  give  ourselves  wholly  into  the  hands  of  God  — 
a  thing  that  indeed  the  Comte  d'Artois  ought  to  do.  We 
ought  to  write  to  him  and  urge  it.  Our  masters  wish  it.  I 
do  not  think  it  will  influence  him. 

Our  journey  with  Barnave  and  Potion  went  on  most  ridi- 
culously. You  believe,  no  doubt,  that  we  were  in  torture ; 
not  at  all.  They  behaved  well,  especially  the  first,  who  has 
much  intelligence  and  is  not  ferocious  as  people  say.  I 
began  by  showing  them  frankly  my  opinion  as  to  their 
actions,  and  after  that  we  talked  for  the  rest  of  the  journey 
as  if  we  ignored  the  whole  thing.  Barnave  saved  the  gardes 
du  corps  who  were  with  us  and  whom  the  National  guards 
wanted  to  massacre. 

September  8,  1791. 

The  Constitution  is  in  the  hands  of  the  king  since  Satur- 
day, and  he  is  reflecting  on  the  answer  he  will  make.  Time 
will  tell  us  what  he  decides  upon  in  his  wisdom.  We  must 
ask  the  Holy  Spirit  to  give  him  of  its  gifts ;  he  has  great  need 
of  them. 


68  LIFE   AND   LETTERS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

I  wish  I  had  something  amusing  to  tell  yon,  but  we  do 
not  abound  in  that  commodity ;  all  the  more  because  the 
price  of  bread  is  rising  and  makes  us  fear  many  riots  this 
winter,  not  counting  those  with  which  the  autumn  threatens 
us.  It  is  very  sad,  and  there  is  no  way  to  make  ourselves 
illusions  because  the  Assembly  itself  speaks  of  them,  the  riots, 
as  an  evil  it  expects.  It  is  true  that  the  strength  given 
by  the  love  of  liberty  is  very  reassuring,  and  patriotism 
can  easily  take  the  place  of  order  and  the  subordination  of 
troops.  .  ,  . 

Yes,  my  heart,  I  wish  I  could  transport  myself  near  you. 
How  sweet  it  would  be  to  me  !  But  Providence  has  placed 
me  where  I  am ;  it  is  not  I  who  chose  it ;  Providence  keeps 
me  here  and  to  that  I  must  submit.  We  are  still  quite  tran- 
quil. A  letter  has  appeared  from  the  Prince,  and  a  declara- 
tion from  the  emperor  and  the  King  of  Prussia  [at  Pillnitz]. 
The  letter  is  strong,  but  the  other  is  not.  Yet  some  persons 
think  they  see  the  heavens  opening.  As  for  me  I  am  not  so 
credulous ;  I  lift  my  hands  to  heaven  and  ask  that  God  will 
save  us  from  useless  evils.     You  will  do  the  same,  I  think. 

To  the  Marquise,  de  Raigecourt. 

September  12, 1791. 

At  last  I  have  an  opportunity  to  write  to  you ;  I  am  charmed, 
for  I  have  a  hundred  thousand  things  to  say ;  but  I  do  not 
know  where  to  begin ;  besides,  I  do  not  want  to  have  to  render 
an  account  of  this  letter  in  the  next  world,  for,  just  now, 
charity  is  a  dif3&cult  virtue  to  put  in  practice. 

I  begin  by  telling  you  that  the  Constitution  is  not  yet  signed, 
but  it  is  safe  to  wager  that  it  will  be  by  the  time  this  letter 
reaches  you,  perhaps  before  I  close  it,  even.  Is  it  a  good,  is 
it  an  evil  ?  Heaven  alone  knows  which  it  is.  Many  persons 
think,  from  their  point  of  view,  that  they  are  certain  about  it. 


1791]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  69 

I  am  in  no  way  called  upon  to  give  my  advice,  or  even  to 
speak  of  the  matter.  I  am  still  floating  as  to  the  view  to 
take ;  there  are  so  many  fors  and  ifs  and  luts  to  be  considered 
that  I  remain  uncertain.  One  must  see  all  things  very  near 
to  judge;  these  are  too  far-off  to  be  able  to  bring  them 
enough  into  one's  thoughts  to  fix  one's  ideas. 

To  speak  to  you  a  little  of  myself,  I  will  tell  you  that  I  am 
about  what  you  have  always  seen  me;  rather  gay,  though 
there  are  moments  when  my  position  makes  me  feel  keenly  ; 
nevertheless,  on  the  whole,  I  am  more  calm  than  agitated  or 
anxious,  as  you  certainly  fancy  I  am.  The  knowledge  you 
have  of  my  nature  will  make  you  understand  what  I  say. 
The  life  I  lead  is  about  the  same.  We  go  to  mass  at  mid- 
day ;  dine  at  half-past  one.  At  six  I  return  to  my  own 
apartments  ;  at  half-past  seven  the  ladies  come  ;  at  half-past 
nine  we  sup.  They  play  billiards  after  dinner  and  after 
supper,  to  make  the  king  take  exercise.  At  eleven  every- 
body goes  to  bed,  to  begin  again  on  the  morrow.  Sometimes 
I  regret  my  poor  Montreuil,  especially  when  the  weather  is 
warm  and  fine ;  there  may  come  a  time,  perhaps,  when  we 
shall  all  be  there  again  ;  what  happiness  I  should  then  feel ! 
but  everything  tells  me  that  moment  is  very  far-off ;  we  are 
walking  on  a  quicksand. 

One  thing  alone  affects  me  deeply.  It  is  that  they  are 
trying  to  put  coldness  into  a  family  whom  I  love  sincerely.^ 
Consequently,  as  you  are  in  the  way  of  seeing  a  person  who 
might  have  some  influence,  I  wish  you  would  talk  to  him  in 
private  and  fill  him  with  the  idea  that  all  will  be  lost  if  the 
son  should  have  other  ideas  for  the  future  than  those  of  con- 
fidence  and  submission  to   the   orders  of   the  father.     All 


1  Between  the  king  and  his  brothers.  In  the  above  letter  the  name 
father  means  the  king ;  that  of  mother-in-law,  the  queen ;  that  of  son  the 
Comte  d'Artois.  —  Fk.  Ed. 


70  LITE   AND  LETTERS  OF  [chap.  n. 

views,  all  ideas,  all  feelings  ought  to  yield  to  that.  You 
must  feel,  yourself,  how  necessary  this  is.  To  speak  quite 
clearly  :  remember  the  position  of  that  imfortunate  father ; 
events  which  prevent  him  from  any  longer  managing  his 
own  estate  throw  him  into  the  arms  of  his  sou.  That  son 
has  always  had  as  you  know,  a  perfect  conduct  towards 
his  father,  in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  done  to  make  him 
quarrel  with  his  mother-in-law.  He  always  resisted  it.  I 
do  not  think  it  made  him  bitter,  because  he  is  incapable  of 
bitterness ;  but  I  fear  that  those  who  are  now  allied  with  him 
may  give  him  bad  advice.  The  father  is  nearly  well ;  his 
affairs  are  recovering ;  he  may  shortly  take  back  the  manage- 
ment of  his  estate,  and  that  is  the  moment  that  I  fear.  The 
son,  who  sees  the  advantages  of  leaving  them  in  the  hands 
in  which  they  now  are,  will  hold  to  that  idea ;  the  mother-in- 
law  will  never  allow  it ;  and  this  struggle  must  be  averted 
by  making  the  young  man  feel  that,  even  for  his  personal 
interests,  he  ought  not  to  put  forward  that  opinion,  and  so 
avoid  placing  himself  in  a  painful  position. 

I  wish  therefore  that  you  would  talk  this  over  with  the 
person  I  indicated,  and  make  him  enter  into  my  meaning 
(without  telling  him  I  have  spoken  thus)  by  making  him 
believe  the  idea  is  his  own,  and  then  he  will  more  readily 
communicate  it.  He  ought  to  feel  better  than  any  one  the 
rights  of  the  father  over  his  sons,  for  he  has  long  experi- 
enced it.  I  wish  also  that  he  could  persuade  the  young 
man  to  be  a  little  more  gracious  to  his  mother-in-law,  if 
only  by  the  charm  a  man  can  employ  when  he  chooses,  and 
thus  convince  her  that  he  wants  to  see  her  what  she  has 
always  been.  In  this  way  he  would  avoid  much  vexation 
and  could  enjoy  in  peace  the  friendship  and  confidence  of 
his  father.  But  you  know  very  well  that  it  is  only  by 
talking  tranquilly  to  that  person,  without  closing  the  eyes 


1791]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  71 

or  lengthening  the  face,  that  you  can  make  him  feel  what  I 
say.  For  that  you  must  be  convinced  yourself.  Therefore, 
read  my  letter  over  again,  try  to  understand  it  thoroughly, 
and  start  from  that  to  do  my  commission.  They  will  tell 
you  harm  of  the  mother-in-law ;  but  the  sole  means  of 
preventing  that  from  becoming  a  reality  is  the  one  I  tell 
you.  The  young  man  made  a  blunder  in  not  allying  him- 
self with  a  friend  of  the  said  lady.  If  no  one  speaks  to  you 
of  this  do  not  mention  it. 

P.  S.  I  knew  it !  here  is  the  Constitution  settled  and 
accepted  in  a  letter  which  you  vdll  certainly  hear  of  soon. 
In  reading  it,  you  will  know  all  that  I  think  of  it,  therefore 
I  will  say  no  more.  I  have  much  anxiety  as  to  the  results. 
I  wish  I  could  be  in  all  the  cabinets  of  Europe.  The  con- 
duct of  Frenchmen  becomes  difficult.  One  single  thing 
supports  me,  it  is  the  joy  of  knowing  that  those  gentlemen 
are  out  of  prison.^  I  go  to  the  Assembly  at  midday,  to 
follow  the  queen ;  were  I  mistress  of  myself,  I  certainly 
would  not  go.  But,  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  all  this  does 
not  cost  me  as  much  as  it  does  others,  though  assuredly  I 
am  far  from  being  constitutional.  M.  de  Choiseul  came 
out  of  prison  to-day,  the  others  yesterday.  Adieu ;  give  me, 
in  white  ink,  all  the  news  you  know,  but  try  to  have  it  true. 
That  about  the  imperial  troops  does  not  please  me.  What 
is  said  in  your  region  ?  The  colonies  are  not  to  be  subjected 
to  the  decrees.  Barnave  spoke  with  such  force  that  he 
carried  the  day.  That  man  has  much  talent;  he  has  in- 
tellect, he  might  have  been  a  great  man  had  he  willed  it ; 
he  may  still  be  one ;  but  heaven's  anger  is  not  over.  How 
should  it  be  ?  what  are  we  doing  to  make  it  so  ? 

1  All  the  gentlemen  captured  during  the  flight  to  Varennes  were 
released  on  the  king's  accepting  the  Constitution.  —  Tr. 


72  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  [chap.  ii. 

October  4,  1791. 
They  say  there  is  to  be  a  congress  at  Aix-la-Chapelle ; 
they  eveu  quote  an  extract  of  a  letter  from  Mar(5chal  de 
Broglie  saying  positively  that  the  emperor  has  received 
answers  from  all  the  other  Courts,  adhering  to  the  declara- 
tion of  Pillnitz,  and  that  in  consequence  their  ministers  and 
ambassadors  are  to  assemble  at  Aix-la-Chapelle.  God  giant 
it  may  be  so  !  Then,  indeed,  we  might  have  a  hope  of 
seeing  our  evils  at  an  end.  But  this  slow  progress  demands 
great  prudence,  much  union  of  wills ;  to  this  all  our  desires 
should  tend.  I  own  to  you  that  this  position  works  upon 
my  mind  more  than  it  should.  I  am  pursued  in  my  prayers 
with  counsels  that  I  want  to  give ;  I  am  very  discontented 
with  myself ;  I  wish  to  be  calm  —  but  that  will  come. 

October  12,  1791. 

Very  happy  news  is  being  spread  here.  The  emperor  has, 
they  say,  recognized  the  National  flag ;  thus,  all  fears  are 
calmed.  It  must  be  owned  that  in  the  eyes  of  the  cen- 
turies, present  and  future,  such  pacific  moderation  will  have 
a  superb  effect.  Already  I  see  histories  relating  it  with 
enthusiasm,  the  people  blessing  it  for  their  happiness, 
peace  reigning  in  my  hapless  country,  constitutional  re- 
ligion fully  established,  philosophy  enjoying  its  work,  and 
we,  poor  Roman-apostolicals,  moaning  and  hiding  ourselves ; 
for  if  this  Assembly  is  not  driven  out  by  the  Parisians, 
things  will  be  terrible  for  non-conformists.  But,  my  heart, 
God  is  master  of  all ;  let  us  work  to  save  ourselves ;  let  us 
pray  for  the  evil-doers,  and  not  imitate  them ;  God  will 
reward  us  how  and  when  he  will. 

All  is  tranquil  here,  but  who  knows  how  long  it  will 
last  ?  I  think  it  may  last  long,  because  the  people,  meeting 
with  no   resistance,  have  no  reason  for  excitement.     The 


1791]  MADAME   ^LISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  73 

king  is  at  this  moment  the  object  of  public  adoration; 
you  cannot  form  an  idea  of  tlie  uproar  there  was  on  Saturday 
night  at  the  Italian  comedy;  but  we  must  wait  and  see 
how  long  such  enthusiasm  will  last. 

I  do  not  number  my  letters  any  longer,  because  I  burned 
all  the  papers  I  did  not  care  to  have  read  on  my  return 
here. 

I  think,  as  you  do,  that  the  young  man  of  whom  you 
speak  [Comte  d'Artois]  will  never  be  happy  in  his  family ; 
but  I  do  not  think  that  his  mother-in-law  is  altogether  the 
cause  of  it ;  I  think  he  is  tricked  by  the  old  fox  [Comte  de 
Mercy]  who  is  the  intimate  friend  of  her  brother.  If  the 
young  man  did  wisely  he  would  try  to  win  him  over,  but 
there  are  so  many  conflicting  interests  to  defeat  it !  What 
is  greatly  to  be  feared  is  that  the  mother-in-law  should  be 
as  much  the  fox's  victim  as  any  one. 

An  extraordinary  thing  has  happened  within  a  day  or 
two;  a  corporal  took  it  upon  himself  to  lock  the  king  and 
queen  into  their  rooms  from  nine  o'clock  at  night  till  nine 
the  next  morning.  This  went  on  two  days  before  it  was 
discovered.  The  guard  is  furious,  and  there  is  to  be  a  coun- 
cil of  war.  By  rules,  the  corporal  ought  to  be  hanged ;  but 
I  do  not  think  he  will  be,  and  I  should  be  sorry  for  it.  The 
rumour  in  Paris  is  that  the  king  is  under  arrest. 

No  doubt  you  read  the  newspapers,  therefore  I  give  you 
no  news  when  I  tell  you  that  the  decree  on  the  priests 
passed  yesterday,  with  all  possible  severity.  It  was  taken 
to  the  king  in  spite  of  its  unconstitutional  faults.  At  the 
same  time  there  came  a  deputation  of,  I  believe,  twenty- 
four  members,  to  beg  the  king  to  take  steps  towards  the 
Powers  inviting  them  to  prevent  the  great  assemblages  of 
emigres,  or  else  to  declare  war  against  them.  In  their 
speech  they  assured  the  king  that  Louis  XIV.  would  not 


74  LIKK   AND   LEITKHS   OF  [chai-.  ii. 

have  sulTered  such  assemblages.  "What  do  you  tliink  of 
that?  —  a  pretty  thing  of  them  to  talk  iu  these  days  of 
Louis  XIV.,  '-that  despot!" 

To  the  Marquise  de  Bomhelles. 

November  8,  1791, 

Do  you  know,  my  Bombe,  that  if  I  did  not  rely  on  your 
friendship,  your  indulgence,  I  should  be  rather  ashamed  of 
the  long  time  since  I  have  written  to  you.  But  it  was  to  do 
better  that  I  did  wrong.  I  wanted  to  write  you  a  long  letter 
and  I  never  have  found  time.  Your  mother  wrote  you  a 
week  ago,  so  that  you  know  that  all  with  us  is  still  standing, 
and  that,  m  spite  of  the  blasphemies  they  never  cease  to 
vomit  against  God  and  his  ministers,  the  skies  have  not 
yet  fallen  upon  us.  .  .  .  \_The  rest  is  in  white  ink.'] 

At  last  they  feel  here  the  necessity  of  drawing  closer  to 
Coblentz  [the  headquarters  of  the  princes  and  emigres]. 
Some  one  is  to  be  sent  from  here  who  will  remain  there,  and 
will  be  in  correspondence  with  the  Baron  de  Breteuil.^  But 
I  feel  one  fear  as  to  this  step  ;   I  am  afraid  it  is  taken  only 

1  Louis  XVI.'s  confidential  agent  towards  the  Courts  of  Europe.  The 
following  is  a  copy  of  his  full  powers  :  — 

"  Monsieur  le  Baron  de  Breteuil,  knowing  your  zeal  and  your  fidelity, 
and  wishing  to  give  you  a  proof  of  my  confidence,  I  have  chosen  you  to 
confide  to  you  tlie  interests  of  my  crown.  Circumstances  do  not  allow  me 
to  give  you  instructions  on  this  or  that  object,  nor  to  hold  with  you  a  con- 
tinuous correspondence.  I  send  you  the  present  to  serve  you  as  full 
powers  [pleins  pouvoirs]  and  authorization  towards  the  different  Powers 
with  whom  you  may  have  to  negotiate  for  me.  You  know  my  intentions  ; 
and  I  leave  it  to  your  prudence  to  make  what  use  you  judge  necessary  of 
these  powers  for  the  good  of  my  service.  I  approve  of  all  that  you  may 
do  to  attain  the  end  that  I  propose  to  myself,  which  is  the  re-establishment 
of  my  legitimate  authority  and  the  welfare  of  my  people.  On  which,  I 
pray  God,  M.  le  Baron  de  Breteuil,  etc." 

The  Baron  de  Breteuil's  headquarters  were  at  Brussels.  See  "  Diary 
and  Correspondence  of  Count  Axel  Fersen,"  the  preceding  volume  of  this 
Hist.  Series.  —  Te. 


1791]  MADAME   :&LISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  75 

to  stop  rash  enterprises,  which  are  much  to  he  dreaded,  and 
not  to  bring  about  deserved  confidence.  Yet,  if  that  confi- 
dence does  not  exist  what  will  happen  ?  We  shall  be  the 
dupe  of  all  the  Powers  of  Europe.  I  hope  your  husband  will 
urge  the  Baron  de  Breteuil  to  enter  sincerely  into  this  new 
order  of  things.  Here  we  are  at  the  gates  of  winter  ;  this  is 
the  moment  for  negotiations  ;  they  might  have  a  happy  issue, 
but  only  if  done  with  harmony  of  action.  If  that  does  not 
exist,  remember  what  I  tell  you :  in  the  spring,  either  the 
most  dreadful  civil  war  will  be  established  in  France,  or  each 
province  will  set  up  its  own  master.  Do  not  think  that 
the  policy  of  Vienna  is  disinterested ;  it  is  far  short  of  that. 
Austria  never  forgets  that  Alsace  once  belonged  to  her.  AH 
the  other  Powers  are  very  glad  to  have  a  reason  to  leave  us  in 
a  state  of  humiliation.  Think  of  the  time  that  has  passed 
since  our  return  from  Varennes  !  Did  those  events  stir  the 
emperor  ?  Has  he  not  been  the  first  to  show  uncertainty  as 
to  what  he  would  do  ?  To  believe,  as  many  persons  assert, 
that  it  is  the  queen  who  holds  him  back,  seems  to  me  devoid 
of  sense,  and  almost  a  crime.  But  I  do  permit  myself  to 
think  that  the  policy  pursued  towards  that  Power  has  not 
been  conducted  with  sufficient  skill.  If  that  is  so,  I  think 
there  is  some  blame ;  but  it  would  be  unpardonable  if,  after 
the  decree  given  yesterday  against  the  emigres,  the  present 
danger  were  not  felt.  Judge  by  the  quantity  of  Frenchmen 
who  are  over  there  how  impossible  it  will  be  to  restrain 
them ;  and  what  will  become  of  France  and  her  king  if  they 
take  such  a  course  without  foreign  help  ?  Pteflect  on  all  this, 
my  Bombe;  and  if  your  husband  sees  there  is  real  danger 
that  .  .  .  \the  paper  is  torn  at  this  place"]  ...  or  that  he 
urges  his  friend  to  act  in  good  faith ;  I  expect  tliat  at  first 
the  man  sent  to  Coblentz  will  meet  with  some  difficulties ; 
but  he  must  not  be  alarmed ;  speaking  in  the  king's  name 

(!  Mom.  Vcr.  9 


7U  LIK1-:   AND   LETTERS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

ami  putting  no  iniU'xibility  into  his  manner  of  maintaining 
liis  opinion  while  arj^uiug  it  well,  he  will  lead  the  others. 

Adieu ;  let  me  know  that  you  receive  this  letter ;  if  your 
husband  takes  any  steps  towards  the  baron  he  must  not  let 
him  know  that  I  asked  it,  or  that  I  have  even  written  to  you 
on  the  subject. 

To  the  Comte  d'Artois. 

February  19, 1702. 

You  know,  my  dear  brother,  what  my  friendship  is  for 
you,  and  how  I  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  well-being.  I  believe, 
I  who  am  here  on  the  spot,  that  you  are  unjust  towards  that 
person ;  you  have  not  at  bottom  a  better  friend.  I  pray  God 
that  he  will  shed  upon  you  his  blessing  and  his  ligKt,  and 
you  will  then  judge  better.  This  estrangement  is  on  all 
sides  a  calamity  and  a  suffering ;  for  it  casts  shadows  where 
friendship  ought  to  shine,  I  will  write  to  you  more  at  length 
by  ttie  opportunity  you  know  of,  and  I  will  prove  to  you  that 
you  will  never  find  a  truer,  tenderer,  more  devoted  friend 
than  I  am  to  you. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Baigecourt. 

February  22,  1792. 

I  will  see,  my  heart,  when  my  purse  is  a  little  less  empty, 
what  I  can  do  for  those  good  and  saintly  Fathers  of  the 
sacred  Valley  [La  Trappe]  What  a  life  is  theirs  !  how  we 
ought  to  blush  in  comparing  it  with  ours !  But  perhaps  a 
part  of  those  saints  have  not  as  many  sins  to  expiate  as  we 
have.  What  ought  to  console  us  is  that  God  does  not  re- 
quire from  everybody  what  he  does  from  them,  and  that,  pro- 
vided we  are  faithful  in  the  little  we  do,  he  is  content. 

The  queen  and  her  children  were  at  the  theatre  last  night, 
where  the  audience  made  an  infernal  uproar  of  applause. 
The   Jacobins  tried  to  make  a  disturbance,  but  they  were 


1792]  MADAME   :fcLISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  77 

beaten.  The  others  called  for  the  repetition  four  times  of 
the  duet  between  the  valet  and  the  maid  in  "  Ev^nements 
impr^vus,"  in  which  they  tell  of  the  love  they  feel  for  their 
master  and  mistress ;  and  at  the  passage  where  they  say, 
"  We  must  make  them  happy,"  the  greater  part  of  the 
audience  cried  out,  "  Yes,  yes  ! "  —  Can  you  conceive  of  our 
nation?  It  must  be  owned,  it  has  its  charming  moments. 
On  which,  good-night.  Your  sister  spent  a  happy  day  lately 
at  the  "  Calvaire."  Vive  la  Liberie  !  As  for  me,  who  enjoy 
as  much  as  I  can  of  it  for  the  last  three  years,  I  envy  the  fate 
of  those  who  can  turn  their  steps  where  they  will ;  if  I  could 
only  spend  a  few  calm  days  it  would  do  me  great  good.  It 
is  a  year  since  I  have  dared  to  go  to  Saint-Cyr. 

To  the  Comte  d'Artois. 

February  22,  1792. 

Your  last  letter  was  brought  to  me  this  morning,  my  dear 
brother,  and  I  have  been  made  very  happy  by  finding  it  less 
bitter  than  the  one  that  preceded  it.  Nevertheless,  I  prom- 
ised to  add  a  few  words  to  one  I  wrote  you  three  days  ago, 
and  I  am  too  sincerely  your  friend  not  to  do  so. 

I  think  that  the  son  has  too  much  severity  towards  his 
mother-in-law.  She  has  not  the  faults  for  which  he  blames 
her.  I  think  she  may  have  listened  to  suspicious  advice  ; 
but  she  bears  the  evils  that  overwhelm  lier  with  sti'ong 
courage ;  and  she  should  be  pitied  far  more  than  blamed,  for 
she  has  good  mtentions.  She  tries  to  fix  the  vacillations 
[^incerfitudts^  of  the  father,  who,  to  the  misfortune  of  the 
family,  is  no  longer  master,  and  —  I  know  not  if  God  wills 
that  I  deceive  myself,  but  —  I  greatly  fear  that  she  will  be 
one  of  the  first  victims  of  what  is  taking  place,  and  my 
heart  is  too  wrung  with  that  presentiment  to  allow  me  to 
blame  her. 


7?!  1,1  KK    AND   LKTTERS   OF  [chap.  il. 

God  is  good  ;  he  will  not  sulTer  discord  to  continue  in  a 
family  to  which  unity  and  a  good  understanding  would  be 
so  useful.  1  shudder  when  1  think  of  it;  it  deprives  me  of 
sleep,  for  discord  will  kill  us  all.  You  know  the  difference 
in  habits  and  societies  that  your  sister  had  always  had  with 
the  mother-in-law ;  in  spite  of  that  she  feels  drawn  to  her 
when  she  sees  her  unjustly  accused,  and  when  she  looks  the 
future  in  the  face.  It  is  very  mifortunate  that  the  son  has 
not  been  willing,  or  perhaps  able,  to  win  over  the  intimate 
friend  of  the  mother-in-law's  brother  [Comte  de  Mercy]. 
That  old  fox  is  tricking  her ;  and  the  son  ought  to  have 
taken  the  duty  upon  himself,  if  possible,  and  made  the  sac- 
rifice of  being  on  terms  with  him  in  order  to  foil  him  and 
prevent  an  evU  which  has  now  become  alarming.  Of  two 
eA^ls,  the  least.  All  men  of  his  sort  frighten  me ;  they  have 
intellect,  but  what  good  is  it  to  them  ?  Heart  is  needed  as 
well,  and  they  have  none.  They  have  nothing  but  intrigue ; 
into  which  it  is  unfortunate  that  they  drag  so  many  persons. 
Others  should  have  been  more  shrewd  than  they.  .  .  . 

The  idea  of  the  emperor  racks  me :  if  he  makes  war  upon 
us  there  will  be  an  awful  explosion.  ]\Iay  God  watch  over 
us !  He  has  heavily  laid  his  hand  on  this  kingdom  in  a 
visible  manner.  Let  us  pray  to  him,  my  dear  brother ;  he 
alone  knows  hearts,  in  him  alone  is  our  worthy  hope.  I 
have  passed  this  Lent  in  asking  him  to  look  with  pity  upon 
us,  and  to  arrange  these  matters  in  the  family  I  love  so 
much.  I  have  that  so  deeply  at  heart  that  I  would  conse- 
crate my  life  to  asking  it  on  my  two  knees,  if  that  would 
make  me  worthy  of  being  heard.  It  is  only  God  who  can 
change  our  fate,  make  the  vertigo  of  this  nation  (good  at 
bottom)  cease,  and  restore  it  to  health  and  peace.  Adieu  — 
what  was  it  you  asked  me  ?  how  I  pass  my  time  ?  what  are 
my  occupations  ?  whether  I  ride  on  horseback  ?  whether  I 


1792]  MADAME   ifeLISABETH  DE  FEANCE.  79 

still  go  to  Saint-Cyr  ?  I  scarcely  dare  for  a  whole  year  past 
to  do  my  duties,  I  kiss  you  with  all  my  heart.  Miserere 
nobis. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Raigecourt. 

April  6, 1792. 

As  I  do  not  wish  you  to  scold  me,  I  write  on  Holy  Thurs- 
day, but  only  a  little  line.  The  King  of  Sweden  is  assas- 
sinated!  Every  one  has  his  turn.  He  had  incredible 
courage.  We  do  not  yet  know  if  he  is  dead;  but  it  is 
likely  that  he  is  from  the  way  the  pistol  was  loaded.  Adieu, 
my  heart ;  when  you  wean  the  baby  I  will  busy  myself  in 
finding  you  a  lodging  in  the  chateau,  for  yours  has  been 
given  to  others. 

April  18,  1792. 

You  think  perhaps  we  are  still  in  the  agitation  of  the  fete 
at  Chateauvieux ;  not  at  all ;  everything  is  very  tranquil. 
The  people  flocked  to  see  Dame  Liberty  tottering  on  her 
triumphal  car,  but  they  shrugged  their  shoulders.  Three  or 
four  hundred  sans-culottes  followed  her  shouting :  "  The  Na- 
tion !  Liberty !  The  Sans-Culottes  !  "  It  was  all  very  noisy, 
but  flat.  The  National  guards  would  not  mingle ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  were  angry,  and  Potion,  they  say,  is  ashamed 
of  his  conduct.  The  next  day  a  pike  with  a  bonnet  rouge 
walked  about  the  garden,  without  shouting,  and  did  not 
stay  long. 

The  King  of  Sweden  died  with  much  courage.  What  a 
pity  that  he  was  not  Catholic ;  he  would  have  been  a  true 
hero.     His  country  seems  tranquil.     Adieu,  my  heart. 

June  23,  1792. 

For  three  days  before  the  20th  a  great  commotion  was  felt 
to  exist  in  Paris,  but  it  was  thought  that  all  necessary  pre- 


so  Ml'H   AND   LirrrKUS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

cautions  were  taken  to  w aid  of!  danger,  "Wednesday  morn- 
ing the  courtyard.s  and  garden  were  full  of  troops.  At 
niidilay  we  heard  that  the  faubourg  8aint-Antoine  was  on 
the  march  ;  it  bore  a  petition  to  the  Assembly,  and  did  not 
propose  to  cross  the  Tuileries.  Fifteen  hundred  persons  filed 
into  the  Assembly ;  few  National  guards  and  some  Invalids, 
the  rest  were  sans-culottcs  and  women.  Three  municipal 
officers  came  to  ask  the  king  to  aUow  the  troops  to  enter  the 
garden,  saying  that  the  Assembly  was  hampered  by  the 
crowd,  and  the  passages  so  incumbered  that  the  doors  might 
be  forced.  The  king  told  them  to  arrange  with  the  com- 
mandant to  defile  along  the  terrace  of  the  Feuillants  and  go 
out  by  the  gate  of  the  riding-school. 

Shortly  after  this  the  other  gates  of  the  garden  were 
opened  in  spite  of  these  orders.  Soon  the  garden  was  filled. 
The  pikes  began  to  defile  in  order  under  the  terrace  in  front 
of  the  chateau  where  there  were  three  lines  of  National 
guards.  They  went  out  by  the  gate  to  the  Pont  Eoyal  and 
seemed  to  intend  to  pass  through  the  Carrousel  on  their  way 
back  to  the  faubourg  Saint- Antoine.  At  three  o'clock  they 
showed  signs  of  wishing  to  force  the  gate  of  the  grand 
courtyard.  Two  municipal  officers  opened  it.  The  National 
Guard,  which  had  not  been  able  to  obtain  any  orders  since 
the  morning,  had  the  sorrow  of  seeing  them  cross  the  court- 
yard without  being  able  to  bar  the  way.  The  department 
had  given  orders  to  repulse  force  by  force,  but  the  munici- 
pality paid  no  attention  to  this. 

We  were,  at  this  moment,  at  the  king's  window.  The  few 
persons  who  were  with  his  valet  de  chamhre  came  and  joined 
us.  The  doors  were  closed.  A  moment  later  we  heard  raps. 
It  was  Acloque  with  a  few  grenadiers  and  volunteers  whom 
he  had  collected.  He  asked  the  king  to  show  himself,  alone. 
The    king    passed   into   the   first   antechamber.     There  M. 


1792]  MADAME   :feLISABETH   DE  FRANCE.  81 

d'Hervilly  came  to  join  him,  with  three  or  four  grenadiers 
whom  he  had  induced  to  come  with  him. 

At  the  moment  when  the  king  passed  into  the  antechamber 
the  persons  attached  to  the  queen  forced  her  to  go  into  her 
son's  room.  More  fortunate  than  she,  no  one  tore  me  from 
the  king's  side.  The  queen  had  scarcely  gone  when  the  door 
was  burst  in  by  the  pikes.  The  king,  at  that  instant,  mounted 
one  of  the  coffers  which  stand  in  the  windows.  The  Mar6- 
chal  de  Mouchy,  MM.  d'Hervilly,  Acloque,  and  a  dozen 
grenadiers  surrounded  him.  I  stood  against  the  wall  with 
the  ministers,  M.  de  Marcilly,  and  some  National  guards 
around  me.  The  pikes  entered  the  chamber  like  a  thunder- 
bolt ;  they  looked  for  the  king,  especially  one  of  them,  who 
used  the  most  dangerous  language.  A  grenadier  turned  aside 
his  weapon,  saying,  "  Unhappy  man  !  this  is  your  king."  All 
the  grenadiers  then  began  to  shout  Vive  le  Roi!  The  rest  of 
the  pikes  responded  mechanically  to  the  cry ;  the  chamber 
was  filled  in  less  time  than  I  can  tell  it,  the  pikes  demanding 
the  sanction,  and  the  dismissal  of  the  ministers.^ 

During  four  hours  the  same  shouts  were  repeated.  Mem- 
bers of  the  Assembly  came.  M.  Vergniaud  and  Isnard  spoke 
well  to  the  people ;  told  them  they  did  wrong  to  demand  the 
king's  sanction  thus,  and  urged  them  to  withdraw;  but  it 
was  as  if  they  did  not  speak  at  all.  At  last  Potion  and  the 
municipality  arrived.  The  first  harangued  the  people,  and 
after  praising  the  "  dignity  "  and  "  order  "  with  whicli  they 
had  come,  he  invited  them  to  retire  with  "  the  same  calm- 

1  This  was  the  moment,  recorded  by  all  other  witnesses  and  forgotten  by 
Madame  Elisabeth,  when,  being  mistaken  for  the  queen  and  threatened  witli 
death,  she  stopped  tliose  who  wished  to  correct  the  blunder.  "  No,  no," 
she  said,  "let  them  think  I  am  she."  One  witness  mentions  that  slitf 
added,  "  Their  crime  would  be  less." 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  a  woman  of  the  people  said,  the  next 
day:  "We  could  do  nothing  then;  they  had  their  Sainte  Genevieve  with 
them."  —  Tr. 


82  LIFE   AND   LF/ITEKS  OF  [ciiAr.  n. 

ness,"  in  order  that  they  might  not  be  reproached  for  com- 
mitting excess  at  "  a  civic  fete."  At  last  the  populace  began 
to  depart. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  that,  shortly  after  the  crowd  entered, 
the  grenadiers  made  a  space  and  kept  the  people  from  press- 
ing on  the  king.  As  for  me,  I  had  mounted  the  window- 
seat  on  the  side  towards  the  king's  room.  A  gi-eat  number 
of  persons  attached  to  the  king  had  come  to  him  that  morn- 
ing; but  he  sent  them  orders  to  go  away,  fearing  another 
18th  of  April.  I  should  like  to  express  myself  as  to  that, 
but  not  being  able  to  do  so,  I  will  simply  say  that  I  shall 
recur  to  it.  All  that  I  say  now  is  that  he  who  gave  the 
order  did  well,  and  that  the  conduct  of  the  others  was 
perfect. 

But  to  return  to  the  queen,  whom  I  left  dragged  against 
her  will  to  my  nephew's  room ;  they  had  carried  the  latter 
so  quickly  into  hiding  that  she  did  not  see  him  on  entering 
his  apartment.  You  can  imagine  her  despair.  But  M.  Hue, 
usher,  and  M.  Saint- Vincent  were  with  him  and  soon  brought 
him  to  her.  She  did  everything  possible  to  return  to  the 
king,  but  MM.  de  Choiseul  and  d'Haussonville,  also  those 
of  our  ladies  who  were  there,  prevented  it.  A  moment  later 
they  heard  the  doors  burst  in,  all  but  one  which  the  people 
did  not  find.  Meantime  the  grenadiers  had  entered  the 
Council  Chamber,  and  there  they  placed  her,  with  her  chil- 
dren, behind  the  Council  table.  The  grenadiers  and  other 
attached  persons  surrounded  her,  and  the  populace  defiled 
before  her.  One  woman  put  a  bonnet  rouge  upon  her  head, 
also  on  that  of  my  nephew.  The  king  had  worn  one  from 
almost  the  first  moment.  Santerre,  who  conducted  the  pro- 
cession, harangued  her,  and  told  her  they  deceived  her  by 
saying  that  the  people  did  not  love  her.  He  assured  her 
she  had  nothing  to  fear.     "We  fear  nothing,"  she  replied. 


1792]  MADAME  ^LISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  83 

"when  we  are  with  brave  men."  So  saying,  she  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  the  grenadiers  who  were  near  her,  and  they 
fell  upon  it.     It  was  very  touching. 

The  deputies  who  came,  came  with  good-will.  A  true 
deputation  arrived  which  requested  the  king  to  return  to  his 
own  room.  I  was  told  of  this,  and  not  being  willing  to  stay 
behind  in  the  crowd,  I  left  about  an  hour  before  he  did,  and 
rejoined  the  queen.  You  can  judge  with  what  joy  I  em- 
braced her,  though  I  was  then  ignorant  of  the  risks  she  had 
run.  The  king  retm'ned  to  his  room,  and  nothing  could  be 
more  touching  than  the  moment  when  the  queen  and  his 
children  threw  themselves  into  his  arms.  The  deputies  who 
were  there  burst  into  tears.  The  deputations  relieved  each 
other  every  half-hour  until  quiet  was  completely  restored. 
They  were  shown  the  violences  that  had  been  committed. 
They  behaved  very  well  in  the  apartment  of  the  king,  who 
was  perfect  to  them.  At  ten  o'clock  the  chateau  was  empty, 
and  every  one  went  to  bed. 

The  next  day,  the  National  Guard,  after  expressing  the 
greatest  grief  at  its  hands  being  bound,  and  having  had  be- 
fore its  eyes,  helplessly,  all  that  had  taken  place,  obtained 
an  order  from  Potion  to  fire,  if  necessary.  At  seven  o'clock 
it  was  said  that  the  faubourgs  were  marching,  and  the  Guard 
put  itself  under  arms  with  the  greatest  zeal.  Deputies  of 
the  Assembly  came  with  good-will  and  asked  the  king  to  let 
the  Assembly  come  to  him,  if  he  thought  there  was  danger. 
The  king  thanked  them.  You  will  see  their  dialogue  in  the 
newspapers,  also  the  one  with  Potion,  who  came  to  tell  the 
king  that  the  crowd  was  only  a  few  persons  who  wanted  to 
plant  a  May  tree. 

At  this  moment  we  are  tranquil.  Tlie  arrival  of  M.  dc  la 
Fayette  from  the  army  creates  a  little  excitement  in  people's 
minds.     The  Jacobins  are  sleeping.    These  are  the  details  of 


84  LIFI-:   AND   LETTERS   OF  [chap.  ii. 

the  20th  of  Juiu'.     Adieu ;  I  am  well;  I  kiss  you,  and  I  am 
thankful  you  arc  uoL  here  in  the  fray. 

To  the  Abbe  de  Lubersac. 

June  25,  1792. 

This  letter  will  be  rather  long  on  its  way ;  but  I  prefer 
not  to  let  this  opportunity  of  talking  with  you  pass.  I  am 
convinced  that  you  will  feel  almost  as  keenly  as  ourselves 
the  blow  that  has  just  been  struck  us ;  it  is  all  the  more 
di-eadful  because  it  lacerates  the  heart,  and  takes  away  our 
peace  of  mind.  The  future  seems  an  abyss,  from  which 
we  can  only  issue  by  a  miracle  of  Providence.  Do  we 
deserve  it  ?  At  that  question  I  feel  my  courage  fail  me. 
"NMiich  of  us  can  expect  the  answer,  "  Yes,  you  deserve  it "  ? 
All  suffer,  but  alas  !  none  are  penitent,  none  turn  their  hearts 
to  God.  As  for  me,  what  reproaches  I  have  to  make  to  my- 
self !  Swept  along  by  the  whirlwind  of  misfortune  I  have 
not  asked  of  God  the  grace  we  need ;  I  have  relied  on  human 
help ;  I  have  been  more  guilty  than  others,  for  who  has  been 
as  much  as  I  the  child  of  Providence  ?  But  it  is  not  enough 
to  recognize  our  faults;  we  must  repair  them.  I  cannot 
alone.  Monsieur,  have  the  charity  to  help  me.  Ask  of  God, 
not  a  change  which  it  may  please  him  to  send  us  when, 
in  his  wisdom,  he  thinks  suitable,  but  let  us  limit  ourselves 
and  ask  him  only  to  enlighten  and  touch  all  hearts,  and  es- 
pecially to  speak  to  two  most  unhappy  beings,  who  would  be 
more  unhappy  still  if  God  did  not  call  them  to  him.  Alas  ! 
the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  flowed  for  them  as  much  as  for  the 
solitary  hermit  who  mourns  for  trivial  faults  incessantly. 
Say  to  God  often,  "  If  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  cure  them,"  and 
give  to  him  the  glory  of  it.  God  knows  the  remedies  to  be 
applied. 

I  am  sorry  to  write  to  you  in  so  gloomy  a  style ;  but  my 


1792]  MADAME   :fcLISABETH  DE   FllANCE,  85 

heart  is  so  dark  that  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  speak  otherwise. 
Do  not  think  from  this  that  my  health  suffers;  no,  I  am 
well ;  and  God  has  given  me  grace  to  keep  my  gaiety.  I 
earnestly  hope  that  your  health  may  be  restored ;  I  wish  I  • 
could  know  that  it  was  better ;  but  how  can  one  hope  that 
with  your  sensibilities  ?  Let  us  think  that  there  is  another 
life  where  we  shall  be  amply  compensated  for  the  troubles 
of  this  one ;  and  let  us  live  in  the  hope  of  meeting  there 
once  more  —  but  not  until  after  we  have  the  pleasure  of  see^ 
ing  each  other  again  in  this  world  ;  for,  in  spite  of  my  exces- 
sive gloom,  I  cannot  believe  that  all  is  hopeless.  Adieu, 
monsieur;  pray  for  me,  I  beg  of  j^ou,  after  having  prayed 
for  those  others,  and  send  me  news  of  yourself  at  times ;  it 
is  a  consolation  to  me. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Raigecourt. 

July  8,  1702. 

It  would  really  require  all  the  eloquence  of  Mme.  de 
S^vigne  to  describe  what  happened  yesterday ;  for  it  is,  in- 
deed, the  most  surprising  thing,  the  most  extraordinary,  the 
grandest,  the  pettiest,  etc.,  etc.  Happily,  experience  aids 
comprehension.  In  short,  behold  the  Jacobins,  the  Feuil- 
lants,  the  Eepublicans,  the  Monarchists,  all  abjuring  their 
discords,  and,  uniting  beneath  the  immovable  arch  of  the 
Constitution  and  Liberty,  promising  one  another  very  sin- 
cerely to  walk  together,  laws  in  hand,  and  never  to  deviate 
from  them !  Happily,  the  month  of  August  is  approaching, 
when,  its  foliage  being  fully  developed,  the  tree  of  liberty 
will  offer  a  safer  shade.  The  city  is  tranquil  and  will  be  so 
during  the  Federation.  I  tremble  lest  there  be  no  religious 
ceremonies ;  you  know  my  taste  for  them.  Ask  of  God,  my 
heart,  that  he  will  give  me  strength  and  counsel.  Adieu ;  I 
embrace  and  love  you  with  all  my  heart. 


86  LIFE   AND   LETTERS  OF  [chap.  ii. 

July  11,  1792. 

Our  good  patriots  in  the  Assembly  have  just,  iny  heart, 
declared  the  country  to  be  in  danger,  in  view  of  the  conduct 
of  the  kings  of  Hungary  and  Prussia  (not  to  speak  of  others) 
towards  poor  peaceable  beings  like  us ;  for  why  should  any 
one  blame  us  ?  However  that  may  be,  the  nation  is  about 
to  rise  as  one  man. 

Our  ministers  have  taken  the  course  of  resigning,  all  six 
at  once ;  which  astonishes  many  persons,  —  all  the  more  be- 
cause their  determination  was  sudden  and  confided  to  no 
one.  I  had  attached  myself  to  two  of  them,  and  you  will 
agree  that  that  was  hardly  worth  while. 

Our  Federation  is  making  ready  quietly.  A  few  Federals 
are  already  here ;  they  do  not  come  in  troops  as  they  did 
two  years  ago,  but  gradually.  I  have  just  seen  some  disem- 
barking, and  they  have  not  an  elegant  appearance. 

Adieu ;  I  kiss  you  with  all  my  heart,  and  I  beg  of  you  the 
favour  of  not  fretting  because  you  are  not  here ;  the  reasons 
are  good  why  you  should  stay  where  you  are,  and  you  must 
think  of  the  matter  no  longer. 

July  18,  1792. 

Your  prayers,  unworthy  as  you  pretend  they  are,  brought 
us  good  fortune,  my  heart ;  the  famous  day  of  the  14th  [fete 
of  the  Federation]  passed  off  tranquilly.  There  was  much 
shouting  of  Vive  Petion  !  and  the  Sans  Culottes  !  As  we  re- 
turned the  whole  guard  which  accompanied  the  king  never 
ceased  shouting,  Vive  le  roi  !  they  were  all  heart  and  soul 
for  us ;  that  did  good.  Since  then  Paris  is  very  calm.  They 
have  just  sent  away  three  regiments  and  two  battalions  of 
the  Swiss  Guards  to  the  camp  at  Soissons. 

I  am  well,  my  heart,  except  for  the  heat,  which  is  scarcely 
endurable  just  now.     We  had  a  frightful  storm  the  night 


l'?92]  MADAME   :feLISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  87 

before  last ;  it  lasted  an  immense  time ;  the  lightning  fell 
upon  the  gardens  at  Versailles,  Adieu,  my  heart ;  my  letters 
must  tire  you ;  I  think  that  before  long  you  will  not  have 
patience  to  read  them  ;  but  how  can  I  help  it  ?  I  do  not  know 
what  to  tell  you.     I  kiss  you  with  all  my  heart. 

.   q,u.      V^^^i^       ^^      anuU-lL-      matt     cc^cu'^    ^    ^/.v*- 
/jiUlia-     eftu^    y     *///*/     fj-iHu^J<.,   run    uc'  ^rut^t^J^im^ 

To  the  Ahbe  de  Lubersac. 

July  22, 1792. 

You  will  soon  receive  a  letter  from  me  which  is  a  perfect 
jeremiad.  From  its  style  one  would  think  I  had  foreseen 
what  was  to  follow.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  think,  monsieur, 
that  that  is  my  habitual  state.  No,  God  grants  me  the  grace 
to  be  quite  otherwise ;  but  at  times  my  heart  has  need  to  let 
itself  go,  and  I  must  speak  of  the  agitations  that  fill  it ;  it 
seems  as  if,  by  giving  relaxation  to  the  nerves,  they  gained 
more  strength.  You,  who  are  more  sensitive  than  others, 
must  feel  this  need. 

Since  the  dreadful  day  of  the  20th  we  are  more  tranquil ; 
but  we  do  not  the  less  need  the  prayers  of  saintly  souls. 
Let  those  who,  sheltered  from  the  storm,  feel  only,  so  to 
speak,  its  repercussion,  lift  their  hearts  to  God,  Yes,  God 
has  given  them  the  favour  to  live  in  quiet  that  tli(!y  may 
make  that  use  of  their  freedom.  Those  on  whom  the  storm 
lowers  meet  at  times  with  such  shocks  that  it  is  difficult  to 


88  LIFK   AND   L1:TTERS   OF  [cuai-.  n. 

practise  the  great  resource  —  that  of  prayer.  Happy  the 
lieart  of  whoso  can  feel  iu  the  great  agitations  of  this  world 
that  (Jod  is  with  it!  happy  the  saints  who,  pierced  by  stabs, 
can  yet  praise  God  in  every  moment  of  their  day !  Ask  that 
grace,  monsieur,  for  those  who  are  feeble  and  little  faithful 
like  me ;  it  would  be  a  true  w^ork  of  charity  to  do. 

My  aunt  thanks  me  often  for  making  her  know  you  [the 
Abbe  de  Lubersac  was  with  Madame  Yictou-e  in  Eomel.  It 
seems  to  me  very  simple  that  she  should  be  pleased,  and  I 
think  myself  fortunate  to  have  procured  for  her  that  advan- 
tage —  or,  to  speak  more  truly,  to  have  been  one  of  the 
mstruments  that  God  has  used  for  that  work  of  salvation.  I 
will  not  say  as  to  that  all  that  I  think  ;  but  I  am  very  glad 
to  be  able  to  speak  of  it  to  you  in  order  that  you  may  put 
your  shyness  more  to  one  side,  if  you  are  still  a  victim  to  it 
—  I  can  use  that  expression,  for  shyness  is  a  real  affliction. 

Paris  is  in  some  fermentation ;  but  there  exists  a  God  who 
watches  over  the  city  and  its  inhabitants.  Therefore  be 
tranquil.  I  wish  I  could  think  that  the  great  heats  will  not 
make  you  suffer;  but  that  is  difficult.  Adieu,  monsieur,  I 
hope  that  you  do  not  forget  me  before  God,  and  that  you  are 
convinced  of  the  esteem  I  have  for  you. 

To  the  Marquise  de  Baigecourt. 

July  25,  1792. 

Good-day,  my  Eaigecourt.  Your  H^lfene  must  be  a  jewel. 
I  do  not  doubt  it,  but  I  am  charmed  to  hear  it ;  though  I 
should  be  still  more  charmed,  I  assure  you,  if  I  could  see  her 
instead  of  believing  what  you  say  of  her.  But  patience  ! 
your  health,  I  hope,  will  not  be  long  in  getting  strong,  and 
then  you  might  soon  come  and  join  me.  Wliat  a  fine 
moment,  my  heart,  will  that  be !  we  shall  have  bought  it  by 
a  very  long  parting.     But  there  is  an  end  to  all  things.     I 


1792] 


MADAME  Elisabeth  de  France. 


89 


do  not  flatter  myself  that  I  can  see  you  before  the  autumn; 
but  it  is  always  sweet  to  be  able  to  talk  of  it. 

Our  days  pass  tranquilly.  The  last  few  have  not  been 
quite  the  same ;  the  people  tried  to  force  the  gates  ;  but  the 
National  Guard  behaved  admirably  and  stopped  it  all.  There 
is  talk  of  suspending  the  executive  power  to  pass  the  time. 
To  pass  mine  in  another  manner  I  go,  in  the  mornings,  for 
three  or  four  hours  into  the  garden,  —  not  every  day,  how- 
ever ;  but  it  does  me  a  great  deal  of  good.  Adieu ;  I  kiss  you 
with  my  whole  heart  and  end  because  there  is  nothing  I  am 
able  to  tell  you. 

Madame  Elisabeth's  last  letter  bore  date  August  8,  1792 ; 
two  days  before  the  fatal  10th,  when  silence  fell  forever 
between  her  and  her  friends.  In  that  letter  she  spoke  of  the 
"  death  of  the  executive  power,"  adding,  "  I  can  enter  into 
no  details." 


90  LlFl':   AND    I.KITEUS  Ob'  [ciiAi .  iii 


CHAPTER  III. 

Madame  Elisabeth's  Removal  to  the  Conciergerie.  —  Iler  Examination. 
Condemnation,  and  Death.  ^ 

[The  only  authentic  records  of  Madame  ]*]lisabeth's  life 
from  the  day  she  entered  the  Tower  of  the  Temple,  August 
13,  1792,  to  May  9,  1794,  the  day  when  she  was  torn  from 
the  arms  of  her  young  niece,  are  in  the  simple  Narrative  of 
that  niece,  Marie-Tlidi-^se  de  France,  and  in  the  Journal  of 
the  Temple  by  Clery,  Louis  XVI.'s  valet.  These  narratives 
could  be,  and  have  been  rewritten  and  elaborated  in  tender 
words  by  loving  hearts,  but  their  plain  simplicity  is  more 
befitting  the  sacred  figure  of  this  brave,  self-forgetting,  wise, 
and  truly  Christ-like  woman.     They  are  given  later. 

We  take  her  now  as  she  emerges  from  the  Temple,  for  a 
last  brief  moment,  into  the  sight  and  hearing  of  men.] 

On  the  25th  of  November,  1793,  the  municipality  of  Paris 
addressed  to  the  National  Assembly  the  following  petition : 

"  Legislatoes 

"  You  have  decreed  Equality ;  source  of  public  welfare  ;  it 
is  established  on  foundations  henceforth  immovable  ;  never- 
theless, it  is  violated,  this  Equality,  and  in  the  most  revolt- 
ing manner,  by  the  vile  remains  of  tyranny,  by  the  prisoners 
in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple.  Could  they  still,  those  abomi- 
nable remains,  be  of  any  account  under  present  circum- 
stances, it  could  be  only  from  the  interest  the  country  has 

1  Madame  felisaheth's  Life  in  the  Temple,  being  recorded  only  by  her 
niece  and  by  Cle'ry,  will  be  found  later,  in  their  narratives.  —  Tr. 


^^^^^ 


-<5»«^/:<4^    zyy 


1793]  MADAME   ^LISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  91 

in  preventing  them  from  rending  her  bosom,  and  renew- 
ing the  atrocities  committed  by  the  two  monsters  who  gave 
them  birth.  If,  therefore,  such  is  the  sole  interest  of  the 
Eepublic  in  respect  to  them,  it  is  beneath  her  sole  surveil- 
lance that  they  ought  to  be  placed.  We  are  no  longer  in 
those  horrible  days  when  a  Liberticide  faction  (on  whom 
the  blade  of  the  law  has  already  done  justice)  assumed,  as  a 
means  of  vengeance  against  a  patriotic  Commune  which  it 
abhorred,  a  responsibility  which  outraged  all  laws,  and  has 
weighed  for  more  than  fifteen  months  on  every  member  of 
the  Commune  of  Paris. 

"  Keason,  justice,  equality  cry  to  you,  legislators,  to  make 
that  responsibility  cease. 

"  And  as  it  is  more  than  time  to  return  to  their  regular  work 
two  hundred  and  fifty  sans-culottes,  now  unjustly  employed 
in  guarding  the  prisoners  of  the  Temple,  the  Commune  of 
Paris  expects  of  your  wisdom  :  — 

"  1st,  That  you  will  send  the  infamous  ^^lisabeth  before  the 
Eevolutionary  tribunal  at  the  earliest  moment. 

"  2d,  That  in  regard  to  the  posterity  of  the  tyrant  you  will 
take  prompt  measures  to  transfer  them  to  a  prison  chosen  by 
you,  there  to  be  locked  up  with  suitable  precautions  and 
treated  by  the  system  of  equality  in  the  same  manner  as  all 
other  prisoners  whom  the  Eepublic  has  need  to  secure. 

"  Drouy,  Eenaed,  Le  Clerc, 
Legeand,  Dorigny." 

Eeferred  to  the  Committee  on  Public  Safety,  this  petition 
slumbered  there  for  six  months,  but  it  was  not  forgotten  in 
that  hotbed  of  the  Eevolution. 

Madame  Elisabeth  had,  from  the  hour  that  she  left   Mon- 

treuil,  expressed  the  resolution  to  share  the  trials  and  the 

perils  of  her  brother  and  his  family.     She  kept  that  resolu- 
7  Mem.  Ver.  t) 


92  LIFE  AND   LETTERS  OF  [cuA^•.  iii. 

tion :  at  Versailles  ou  the  6tli  of  October  ;  iii  Paris,  through 
years  of  gloomy  solitude  in  the  Tuileries ;  on  the  road  to  and 
from  Varennes  ;  on  that  day  of  evil  omen,  the  20th  of  June ; 
on  the  bloody  night  of  the  10th  of  August ;  in  the  box  at  the 
Assembly,  facing  insults  and  threats ;  in  the  Tower  of  the 
Temple,  witness  and  actor  in  those  heart-rending  farewells. 
Yes,  she  kept  all  the  promises  she  made  to  God,  and  God 
was  now  about  to  keep  all  his  to  her :  strength  and  faithful- 
ness unto  death  were  hers,  and  pity  passes  from  om-  minds 
as  we  read  of  these  last  scenes,  so  all-triumphant  are  they. 

In  a  pouring  rain  she  was  taken  on  foot  across  the  garden 
and  courtyard  of  the  Temple,  placed  in  a  hackney-coach,  and 
driven  to  the  Conciergerie,  May  9,  1794  It  was  then  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  At  ten  she  was  taken  to  the  council 
hall  of  the  Revolutionary  tribunal,  and  there  subjected  to  her 
first  examination  before  Gabriel  Deliege,  judge,  Fouquier- 
Tinville,  prosecutor,  and  Ducray,  clerk.^ 

After  placing  her  signature  with  that  of  the  three  men  at 
the  foot  of  each  page  of  her  indictment,  Madame  Elisabeth 
was  taken  back  to  prison.  She  made  herself  no  illusions  as 
to  the  fate  that  awaited  her.  She  knew  it  would  be  in  vain  to 
ask  for  the  help  of  a  Catholic  priest ;  she  resigned  herself 
to  that  deprivation,  and  offered  direct  to  God  the  sacrifice  of 
her  life,  drawing  from  her  living  faith  the  strength  to  make 
that  sacrifice  worthily.  She  was  alone;  no  human  help 
could  reach  her.  It  is  said  that,  imknown  to  her,  a  lawyer, 
M.  Chauveau-Lagarde,  hearing  of  her  arraignment,  went  to  the 
prison  to  offer  himself  for  her  defence.  He  was  not  permitted 
to  see  her.  He  appealed  to  Fouquier-Tinville,  who  replied  : 
"  You  cannot  see  her  to-day ;  there  is  no  hurry ;  she  will  not 
be  tried  yet."  Nevertheless,  spurred  by  a  vague  anxiety,  M. 
Chauveau-Lagarde  went  the  next  morning  to  the  assize  court, 

1  See  Appendix  IL 


1793]  MADAME   ifeLISABETH   DE   FRANCE.  93 

and  there,  according  to  his  presentiment,  was  Madame  Elisa- 
beth seated,  among  twenty-four  other  prisoners,  on  the  upper 
bench,  where  they  had  placed  her  that  she  might  be  conspic- 
uously in  view  of  every  one.  It  was  then  impossible  to  confer 
with  her,  and  she  was  ignorant  that  one  man  stood  in  that 
court  seeking  to  defend  her.^ 

Een^-Fran^ois  Dumas,  president  of  the  Eevolutionary 
tribunal,  opened  the  session  ;  Gabriel  Deli^ge  and  Antoine- 
Marie,  judges,  were  seated  beside  him. 

Gilbert  Liendon,  deputy  public  prosecutor,  read  the 
accusation;  Charles-Adrien  Legris,  clerk,  wrote  down  the 
examination. 

The  jurors,  to  the  number  of  fifteen,  were  the  following 
citizens  [names  given], 

Tlie  Indictment. 

"  Antoine-Quentin  Fouquier,  Public  Prosecutor  of  the 
Eevolutionary  Tribunal,  established  in  Paris  by  the  decree 
of  the  National  Assembly,  March  10,  1793,  year  Two  of  the 
Eepublic,  without  recourse  to  any  Court  of  Appeal,  in  virtue 
of  the  power  given  him  by  article  2  of  another  decree  of  the 
said  Convention  given  on  the  5  th  of  April  following,  to  the 
effect  that  '  the  Public  Prosecutor  of  said  Tribunal  is  au- 
thorized to  arrest,  try,  and  judge,  on  the  denunciation  of  the 
constituted  authorities,  or  of  citizens,'  — 

"  Herewith  declares  that  the  following  persons  have  been, 

by  various  decrees  of  the  Committee  of  general  safety  of  the 

Convention,  of  the  Eevolutionary  committees  of  the  different 

sections  of  Paris,  and  of  the  department  of  the  Yonne,  and 

by  virtue  of  warrants  of  arrest  issued  by  the  said  Public 

Prosecutor,  denounced  to  this  Tribunal :  — 

1  The  following  account  of  the  proceedings  is  taken  from  the  official 
report  in  the  "  Moniteur." 


94  LIFE   AND  LETTERS  OF  [chap.  in. 

*  1st,  Marie  filisabech  Capet,  sister  of  Louis  Capet,  the  last 
tyrant  of  the  French,  aged  thirty,  and  bom  at  Versailles." 

[Then  foll&w  the  nawus  and  description  of  twenty-four 
other  prisoners.'l 

"  And,  also,  that  it  is  to  the  family  of  the  Capets  that  the 
French  people  owe  aU  the  evils  under  the  weight  of  which 
they  have  groaned  for  so  many  centuries. 

"  It  was  at  the  moment  when  excessive  oppression  forced 
the  people  to  break  their  chains,  that  this  whole  family 
united  to  plunge  them  into  a  slavery  more  cruel  than  that 
from  which  they  were  trying  to  emerge.  The  crimes  of  all 
kinds,  the  guilty  deeds  of  Capet,  of  the  Messalina  Antoi- 
nette, of  the  two  brothers  Capet,  and  of  Elisabeth,  are  too 
well  known  to  make  it  necessary  to  repaint  here  the  hor- 
rible picture.  They  are  written  in  letters  of  blood  upon  the 
annals  of  the  Eevolution;  and  the  unheard-of  atrocities 
exercised  by  the  barbarous  ^.Tnigrh  and  the  sanguinary  Satel- 
lites of  despots,  the  murders,  the  incendiarisms,  the  ravages, 
the  assassinations  unknown  to  the  most  ferocious  monsters 
which  they  have  committed  on  French  territorv,  are  still 
commanded  by  that  detestable  family,  in  order  to  deliver 
a  great  nation  once  more  to  the  despotism  and  fury  of  a 
few  individuals. 

"  Elisabeth  has  shared  aU  those  crimes ;  she  has  co-operated 
in  all  the  plots,  the  conspiracies  formed  by  her  infamous 
broth^s,  by  the  wicked  and  impure  Antoinette,  and  by  the 
horde  of  conspirators  collected  around  them ;  she  associated 
herself  with  their  projects ;  she  encouraged  the  assassins  of 
the  nation,  the  plots  of  July,  one  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  eighty-nine,  the  conspiracy  of  the  6th  of  October  fol- 
lowing, of  which  the  dTIstaings,  the  Villeroys,  and  others. 


1793]  MADAME    ELISABETH   DE    FRA>'CE.  95 

who  have  now  been  struck  by  the  blade  of  the  law,  were 
the  agents,  —  in  shon,  the  whole  uninteirapced  chain  of 
conspiracies,  lasting  four  whole  years,  were  followed  and 
seconded  by  all  the  means  which  Elisabeth  had  in  her 
power.  It  was  she  who  in  the  month  of  June,  1791,  sent 
diamonds,  the  property  of  the  nation,  to  the  in&moos 
d'Artois,  her  brother,  to  put  him  in  a  condition  to  exe- 
cute projects  concerted  with  him,  and  to  hire  assassins  of 
the  nation.  It  was  she  who  maiutained  with  her  other 
brother,  now  become  an  object  of  derision  and  contempt 
to  the  coalized  Powers  on  whom  he  imposed  his  imbecile 
and  ponderous  nullity,  a  most  active  correspondence ;  i:  ^as 
she  who  chose  by  the  most  insulting  pride  and  disdain  to 
degrade  and  humiliate  the  free  men  who  consecrated  their 
time  to  guarding  the  tyrant ;  it  was  she  who  lavished  atten- 
tions on  the  assassins,  sent  to  the  Champs  Ely  sees  by  the 
despot  to  provoke  the  brave  Marseillais;  it  was  she  who 
stanched  the  wounds  they  received  in  their  {se<d|Biate 
flight 

"Elisabeth  meditated  with  Capet  and  Antoinette  the 
massacre  of  the  citizens  of  Paris  on  the  immortal  day  of  the 
10th  of  August,  She  watched  all  night  hoping  to  witness 
the  nocturnal  carnage.  She  helped  the  barbarous  Antoi- 
nette to  bite  the  cartridges  :  she  encouraged  by  her  lan- 
guage, young  girls  whom  ^narical  priests  had  brouo^t  to 
the  chateau  for  that  horrible  occupation.  Finally,  disap- 
pointed in  the  hope  of  all  this  horde  of  conspiratois, 
namely.  —  that  the  citizens  who  came  to  overthrow  tyranny 
would  be  massacred,  —  she  fled  in  die  morning,  with  the 
tyrant  and  his  wife,  and  went  to  await  in  the  temple  of 
Xational  sovereignty  that  the  horde  of  slaves,  paid  and 
committed  to  the  crimes  of  that  parricide  Court,  ^ould 
drown  LibeiTv  in  the  blood  of  ci:i;e-s  and  cut  the  throats 


or.  LIFE   AND   LETTERS   OF  [chap.  hi. 

of  it^<^  representatives  among  whom  she  liad  sought  a 
refuge. 

"  Finally,  we  have  seen  her,  since  the  well-deserved  pun- 
ishment of  the  most  guilty  of  the  tyrants  who  have  ever 
dishonoured  human  nature,  promoting  the  re-establishment 
of  t}Tamiy  by  la\dsliing,  with  Antoinette,  on  the  son  of 
Capet  homage  to  royalty  and  the  pretended  honours  of  a 
king." 

The  president,  in  presence  of  the  auditory  composed  as 
aforesaid,  then  put  to  the  said  jurors,  each  individually,  the 
following  oath :  — 

"  Citizen,  you  swear  and  promise  to  examine  with  the  most 
scrupulous  attention  the  charges  brought  against  the  accused 
persons,  here  present  before  you ;  to  communicate  with  no 
one  until  after  you  declare  your  verdict ;  to  listen  to  neither 
hatred  nor  malignity,  fear,  nor  affection  ;  to  decide  according 
to  the  charges  and  the  means  of  defence,  and  according  to 
your  confidence  and  inward  conviction,  with  the  impartiality 
and  firmness  which  becomes  free  men." 

After  swearing  the  said  oath,  the  said  jurors  took  their 
seats  in  the  centre  of  the  audience  chamber,  facing  the  ac- 
cused and  the  witnesses. 

The  president  told  the  accused  that  they  might  sit  down : 
after  which  he  asked  their  names,  age,  profession,  residence, 
and  place  of  birth,  beginning  wdth  Madame  Elisabeth. 

Q.   "VMiat  is  your  name  ? 

A.   Ellisabeth-Marie. 

[The  report  in  the  "  Moniteur  "  does  not  say,  but  a  large 
number  of  persons  present  have  declared  that  Madame 
F]lisabeth  answered :  "  I  am  named  ^Elisabeth-Marie  de 
France,  sister  of  Louis  XVI.,  aunt  of  Louis  XVII.,  your 
king."] 

Q.   Your  age  ?     A,   Thirty. 


1793]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  97 

Q.   Where  were  you  born  ?     A.   Versailles. 
Q.   Where  do  you  live  ?     A.   Paris, 

The  president  then  put  the  foUowiag  questions  to  Madame 
Elisabeth : 

Q.  Where  were  you  on  the  12th,  13th,  and  14th  of  July, 
1789,  that  is,  at  the  period  of  the  first  plots  of  the  Court 
against  the  people  ? 

A.  I  was  in  the  bosom  of  my  family.  I  knew  of  no  plots 
such  as  you  speak  of.  I  was  far  from  foreseeing  or  second- 
ing those  events. 

Q.  At  the  time  of  the  flight  of  the  tyrant,  your  brother,  to 
Varennes  did  you  not  accompany  him  ? 

A.  All  things  commanded  me  to  follow  my  brother ;  I 
made  it  my  duty  on  that  occasion,  as  on  all  others. 

Q,  Did  you  not  figure  in  the  infamous  and  scandalous  orgy 
of  the  Gardes-du-corps,  and  did  you  not  make  the  circuit  of 
the  table  with  Marie-Antoinette  and  induce  each  guest  to 
repeat  the  shocking  oath  to  exterminate  the  patriots,  to 
smother  liberty  at  its  birth,  and  re-establish  the  tottering 
throne  ? 

A.  I  am  absolutely  ignorant  if  the  orgy  mentioned  took 
place ;  and  I  declare  that  I  was  never  in  any  way  informed 
of  it. 

Q.  You  do  not  tell  the  truth,  and  your  denial  is  not  of  any 
use  to  you,  because  it  is  contradicted  on  one  side  by  public 
notoriety,  and  on  the  other  by  the  likelihood,  which  con- 
vinces every  man  of  sense,  that  a  woman  so  closely  allied  as 
you  were  with  Marie-Antoinette,  both  by  ties  of  blood  and 
those  of  intimate  friendshijj,  could  not  avoid  sharing  her 
machinations  and  helping  with  all  your  power;  you  did 
therefore,  necessarily,  and  in  accord  with  the  wife  of  the 
tyrant,  instigate  the  abominable  oath  taken  by  the  satellites 


98  LIFE   AND   LETTERS   OF  «iiai-.    hi. 

of  the  Court  to  assassinate  and  anniliilate  liberty  at  its 
birth ;  also  you  instigated  the  bloody  outrages  done  to 
that  precious  sign  of  liberty,  the  tri-colour  cockade,  by 
ordering  your  accomplices  to  trample  it  under  foot. 

A.  I  have  already  declared  that  all  those  acts  are  unknown 
to  me ;  I  have  no  other  answer. 

Q.    ^^^lere  were  you  on  the  10th  of  August  ? 

A.  I  was  in  the  chateau,  my  usual  and  natural  residence 
for  some  time  past. 

Q.  Did  you  not  pass  the  night  of  the  9th  and  10th  in  your 
brother's  room ;  and  did  you  not  have  secret  conferences 
with  him  which  explained  to  you  the  object  and  motive 
of  all  the  movements  and  preparations  which  were  being 
made  before  your  eyes  ? 

A.  I  spent  the  night  you  speak  of  in  my  brother's  room ; 
I  did  not  leave  him;  he  had  much  confidence  in  me;  and 
yet  I  never  remarked  anything  in  his  conduct  or  in  his 
conversation  which  announced  to  me  what  happened 
later. 

Q.  Your  answer  wounds  both  truth  and  probability ;  a 
woman  like  you,  who  has  manifested  through  the  whole 
course  of  the  Eevolution  so  striking  an  opposition  to  the 
present  order  of  things,  cannot  be  believed  when  she  tries 
to  make  us  think  that  she  was  ignorant  of  the  cause  of 
those  assemblages  of  all  kinds  in  the  chateau  on  the  eve 
of  the  10th  of  August.  Will  you  tell  us  what  prevented  you 
from  going  to  bed  on  the  night  of  the  9th  and  10th  of 
August  ? 

A.  I  did  not  go  to  bed  because  the  constituted  bodies 
had  come  to  tell  my  brother  of  the  agitation,  the  excitement 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Paris,  and  the  dangers  that  might  re- 
sult from  it. 

Q.     You  dissimulate  in  vain :  especially  after  the  various 


1793]  MADAME   :fcLISABETH  DE   FRANCE.  99 

confessions  of  the  widow  Capet,  who  stated  that  you  took 
part  in  the  orgy  of  the  Gardes-du-corps,  that  you  supported 
her  under  her  fears  and  alarms  on  the  10  th  of  August  as  to 
the  life  of  Capet.  But  what  you  deny  fruitlessly  is  the 
active  part  you  took  in  the  conflict  that  ensued  between  the 
patriots  and  the  satellites  of  tyranny ;  it  is  your  zeal  and 
ardour  in  serving  the  enemies  of  the  people,  in  supplying 
them  with  cartridges,  which  you  took  pains  to  bite,  because 
they  were  directed  against  patriots  and  intended  to  mow 
them  down ;  it  is  the  desire  you  have  publicly  expressed  that 
victory  should  belong  to  the  power  and  partisans  of  your 
brother,  and  the  encouragement  of  all  kinds  which  you  have 
given  to  the  murderers  of  your  country.  What  answer  have 
you  to  these  last  facts  ? 

A.  All  those  acts  imputed  to  me  are  unworthy  deeds 
with  which  I  was  very  far  from  staining  myself. 

Q.  At  the  time  of  the  journey  to  Varennes  did  you  not 
precede  the  shameful  evasion  of  the  tyrant  by  the  subtrac- 
tion of  the  diamonds  called  crown  diamonds,  belonging  then 
to  the  nation,  and  did  you  not  send  them  to  d'Artois  ? 

A.  Those  diamonds  were  not  sent  to  d'Artois  ;  I  confined 
myself  to  giving  them  into  the  hands  of  a  trustworthy 
person. 

Q.  Will  you  name  the  person  with  whom  you  deposited 
those  diamonds  ? 

A.  M.  de  Choiseul  was  the  person  I  selected  to  receive 
that  trust, 

Q.  What  have  become  of  the  diamonds  you  say  you 
confided  to  Choiseul  ? 

A.  I  am  absolutely  ignorant  of  what  was  the  fate  of 
those  diamonds,  not  having  had  an  opportunity  to  see  M.  de 
Choiseul ;  I  have  had  no  anxiety,  nor  have  I  concerned  my- 
self about  them. 


100  LIFE    AND   LETTERS  OF  (chap    hi. 

Q.  You  do  not  cease  to  lie  on  all  the  questions  made  to 
vou.  and  esj^ecially  on  the  matter  of  the  diamonds ;  for  a 
proch-vcrbal  of  September  12,  1792,  drawn  up  with  full 
knowledge  of  the  circumstances  by  the  representatives  of  the 
people  at  the  time  of  the  theft  of  those  diamonds,  proves,  in  a 
manner  that  cannot  be  denied,  that  those  diamonds  were 
sent  to  d'Artois.  Have  you  not  kept  up  a  correspondence 
with  your  brother,  the  ci-dfvant  ^f<>nsieur  ,^ 

A.  I  do  not  remember  having  done  so  since  it  was 
prohibited. 

Q.  Did  you  not  yourself  stanch  and  dress  the  wounds 
of  the  assassins  sent  to  the  Champs  Elys^es  by  your  brother 
against  the  brave  Marseillais  ? 

A.  I  never  knew  that  my  brother  did  send  assassins 
against  any  one,  no  matter  who.  Although  I  gave  succour 
to  some  wounded  men,  humanity  alone  induced  me  to  dress 
their  wounds ;  I  did  not  need  to  know  the  cause  of  their 
ills  to  occupy  myself  with  their  relief.  I  make  no  merit  of 
this,  and  I  cannot  imagine  that  a  crime  can  be  made  of  it. 

Q.  It  is  difficult  to  reconcile  the  sentiments  of  humanity 
in  which  you  now  adorn  yourself  with  the  cruel  joy  j'ou 
showed  on  seeing  the  torrents  of  blood  that  flowed  on  the 
10th  of  August.  All  things  justify  us  in  believing  that  you 
are  humane  to  none  but  the  murderers  of  the  people,  and 
that  you  have  all  the  ferocity  of  the  most  sanguinary  ani- 
mals for  the  defenders  of  liberty.  Far  from  succouring  the 
latter  you  instigated  their  massacre  by  your  applause ;  far 
from  disarming  the  murderers  of  the  people  you  gave  them 
with  your  own  hands  the  instruments  of  death,  by  which 
you  flattered  yourselves,  you  and  your  accomplices,  that 
tyranny  and  despotism  would  be  restored.  That  is  the  hu- 
manity of  despots,  who,  from  all  time,  have  sacrificed  mil- 
lions of  men  to  their  caprices,  to  their  ambition,  and  to  their 


1793]  MADAME   ELISABETH   DE  FRANCE.  101 

cupidity.  The  prisoner  Elisabeth,  whose  plan  of  defence  is 
to  deny  all  that  is  laid  to  her  charge,  will  she  have  the  sin- 
cerity to  admit  that  she  nursed  the  little  Capet  in  the  hope 
of  succeeding  to  his  father's  throne,  thus  instigating  to 
royalty  ? 

A.  I  talked  familiarly  with  that  unfortunate  child,  who 
was  dear  to  me  from  more  than  one  cause,  and  I  gave  him,  in 
consequence,  all  the  consolations  that  I  thought  might  com- 
fort him  for  the  loss  of  those  who  gave  him  birth. 

Q.  That  is  admitting,  in  other  terms,  that  you  fed  the 
little  Capet  with  the  projects  of  vengeance  which  you  and 
yours  have  never  ceased  to  form  against  liberty;  and  that 
you  flattered  yourself  to  raise  the  fragments  of  a  shattered 
throne  by  soaking  it  in  the  blood  of  patriots. 

The  president  then  proceeded  to  the  examination  of  the 
other  prisoners,  confining  himself  to  a  few  insignificant 
questions. 

[Here  the  "  Moniteur,"  and  after  it  historians,  omit  all 
mention  of  the  speech  of  Madame  Elisabeth's  defender, 
thus  leaving  it  to  be  supposed  that  no  voice  was  raised  in 
her  behalf.  Though  the  trial  was  rapid,  and  all  communi- 
cation was  prevented  between  her  and  her  defender,  it  is  a 
known  fact  that  Chauveau-Lagarde  rose  after  the  president 
had  ended  Madame  Elisabeth's  examination,  and  made  a 
short  jjlea,  of  which  he  has  given  us  himself  the  substance  : 

"I  called  attention,"  he  says,  "to  the  fact  that  in  this 
trial  there  was  only  a  bold  accusation,  without  documents, 
without  examination,  without  witnesses,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, as  there  was  in  it  no  legal  element  of  conviction 
there  could  be  no  legal  conviction  at  all. 

"  I  added  that  they  had  nothing  against  the  august  prisoner 
but  her  answers  to  the  questions  just  put  to  her,  and  that 


102  LIFE   AND   LETTERS   OF  [chap.  hi. 

those  answers,  far  from  coudenming  her,  ouglil  to  honour  her 
to  all  eyes,  because  they  proved  absohitely  uothmg  but  the 
goodness  of  her  liourl  ami  the  heroism  of  her  friendship. 

"  Then  after  developing  those  ideas  I  ended  by  saying  that 
as  there  was  no  ground  for  a  defence,  I  could  only  present 
for  ^ladame  GlisabeLh  an  apology,  and  even  so,  I  found  it 
impossible  to  make  more  than  one  that  was  worthy  of  her, 
namely  :  that  a  princess  who  had  been  a  perfect  model  of 
virtue  at  the  Court  of  France  could  not  be  the  enemy  of 
Frenchmen. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  paint  the  fury  with  which  Dumas 
apostrophized  me;  reproaching  me  for  having  had  the 
'  audacity  to  speak '  of  what  he  called  '  the  pretended  virtue 
of  the  accused,  thus  attempting  to  corrupt  the  public  morals.' 
It  was  easy  to  see  that  Madame  ^Elisabeth,  who  until  then 
had  remained  calm,  as  if  unconscious  of  her  own  danger, 
was  agitated  by  that  to  which  I  was  exposing  myself.] 

The  report  in  the  "  Moniteur  "  continues :  — 
After  the  Public  Prosecutor  and  the  defenders  had  been 
heard,  the  president  declared  the  debate  closed.     He  then 
summed  up  the  cases  and  gave  to  the  jury  the  following 
written  paper:  — 

"  Plots  and  conspiracies  have  existed,  formed  by  Capet,  his 
wife,  his  family,  his  agents  and  his  accomplices,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  external  war  on  the  part  of  a  coalition  of 
tyrants  has  been  provoked,  also  civil  war  in  the  interior  has 
been  raised,  succour  in  men  and  money  have  been  furnished 
to  the  enemy,  troops  have  been  assembled,  plans  of  campaign 
have  been  made,  and  leaders  appointed  to  murder  the  people, 
annihilate  liberty,  and  restore  despotism. 

"  Is  ^Elisabeth  Capet  an  accomplice  in  these  plots  ? " 

The  jury,  after  a  few  moments'  deliberation,  returned  to 


1793]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  103 

the  audience  chamber  and  gave  an  affirmative  declaration 
against  Madame  Elisabeth  and  the  other  prisoners  [here 
follow  the  names],  who  were  then  condemned  to  the  Penalty 
of  Death.  ...  It  was  then  ordered  that,  by  the  diligence 
of  the  Public  Prosecutor,  the  present  judgment  shall  be  ex- 
ecuted within  twenty-four  hours  on  the  Place  de  la  Revolu- 
tion of  this  city,  and  be  printed,  read,  published,  and  posted 
throughout  the  extent  of  the  Eepublic. 

As  Madame  Ellisabeth  left  the  Tribunal,  Fouquier  turned 
to  the  president  and  said :  "  It  must  be  owned  she  never 
uttered  a  complaint."  —  "  What  has  she  to  complain  of,  that 
Elisabeth  de  France  ?  "  replied  Dumas,  with  ironical  gaiety ; 
"  have  n't  we  just  given  her  a  court  of  aristocrats  who  are 
worthy  of  her  ?  There  will  be  nothing  to  prevent  her  from 
fancying  she  is  back  in  the  salons  of  Versailles  when  she 
finds  herself  at  the  foot  of  the  guillotine  surrounded  by  all 
those  faithful  nobles." 

When  Madame  Elisabeth  returned  to  the  prison  she  asked 
to  be  taken  to  the  common  room,  in  which  were  the  twenty- 
four  persons  condemned  to  die  with  her  on  the  morrow. 
This  room,  long,  narrow,  and  dark,  was  separated  from  the 
office  of  the  Conciergerie  by  a  door  and  a  glass  partition. 
It  had  no  furniture  but  wooden  benches  fastened  to  the 
walls.  These,  and  the  following  details  are  given  by  two 
eye-witnesses  who  happened  to  be  in  the  room  that  night 
though  not  among  the  number  condemned  to  death.'^ 

^  One  was  Geoffroy  Ferry,  who  was  there  as  usual  to  take  an  inventory 
of  the  clothes  and  other  articles  on  the  condemned  persons  ;  he  pave  these 
details  to  his  nephew,  attached  in  1825  to  the  6cole  des  Beaux  Arts,  who 
gave  them  to  the  author  of  the  "  "Vie  de  Madame  ^felisabeth."  The  other  was 
Marguerite,  a  maid  in  the  service  of  the  Marquis  dc  Fenouil,  imprisoned 
in  the  Conciergerie  for  refusing  to  testify  against  her  master.  The  same 
author  obtained  these  facts  from  her  own  lips  in  1828.  —  Fk.  Ed. 


104  LIKK   AM)    LKTriCUS   OF  [ciiai>.  m. 

Joining  the  jhkh-  unfortunates,  who  were  now  in  different 
stages  of  agi>ny  and  fear,  IMadanie  Elisabeth  took  her  place 
among  them  naturally.  Such  as  she  had  been  at  Versailles 
and  at  ^lonlreuil  in  the  midst  of  other  friends,  she  was  here, 
forgetful  of  herself,  mindful  of  them,  and  dropping  into  each 
poor  heart  by  simple  words  the  balm  of  God's  own  com- 
fort. She  seemed  to  regard  them  as  friends  about  to  accom- 
pany her  to  heaven.  She  sj)oke  to  them  calmly  and  gently, 
and  soon  the  serenity  of  her  look,  the  tranquillity  of  her 
mind  subdued  their  anguish.  The  Marquise  de  Sdnozan,  the 
oldest  of  the  twenty-four  victims,  was  the  first  to  recover 
courage  and  offer  to  God  the  little  that  remained  to  her  of 
life.  Madame  de  Montmorin,  nearly  all  of  whose  family 
had  been  massacred  in  the  Kevolution,  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  the  immolation  of  her  son,  twenty  years  of  age, 
who  was  doomed  to  die  with  her.  "  I  am  willing  to  die,"  she 
said  sobbing,  "  but  I  cannot  see  him  die."  —  "  You  love  your 
son,"  said  Madame  Elisabeth,  "  and  yet  you  do  not  wish  him 
to  accompany  you ;  you  are  going  yourself  to  the  joys  of 
heaven  and  you  want  him  to  stay  upon  earth,  where  all  is 
now  torture  and  sorrow."  Under  the  influence  of  those 
words  Mme.  de  Montmorin's  heart  rose  to  a  species  of 
ecstasy,  her  fibres  relaxed,  her  tears  flowed,  and  clasping 
her  son  in  her  arms,  "  Yes,  yes ! "  she  cried,"  we  will  go 
together." 

M.  de  Lomdnie,  former  minister  of  war,  and  lately  mayor 
of  Brienne,  whom  that  town  and  its  adjoining  districts  had 
vainly  endeavoured  to  save,  was  indignant  with  a  species  of 
exaltation,  not  at  being  condemned  to  die,  but  at  hearing 
Fouquier  impute  to  him  as  a  crime  the  testimony  of  affection 
and  gratitude  shown  for  him  by  his  department.  Madame 
Elisabeth  went  to  him  and  said  gently:  "If  it  is  fine  to 
merit  the  esteem  of  your  fellow-citizens,  think  how  much 


1793]  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FKANCE.  105 

finer  it  is  to  merit  the  goodness  of  God.  You  have  shown 
your  compatriots  how  to  live  rightly ;  show  them  now  how 
men  die  when  tlieir  conscience  is  at  peace." 

It  sometimes  happens  that  timid  natures,  the  most  suscep- 
tible of  fear  in  the  ordinary  course  of  life,  will  heroically 
brave  death  when  a  great  sentiment  inspires  them.  Madame 
Elisabeth's  presence  conveyed  that  inspiration.  The  Mar- 
quise de  Crussol-Amboise  was  so  timid  that  she  dared  not 
sleep  without  two  women  in  her  room ;  a  spider  terrified  her ; 
the  mere  idea  of  an  imaginary  danger  filled  her  with  dread. 
Madame  Elisabeth's  example  transformed  her  suddenly ;  she 
grew  calm  and  firm,  and  so  remained  till  death.  The  same 
species  of  emotion  was  conveyed  to  all  the  others.  The  calm 
presence  of  Madame  Elisabeth  seemed  to  them  in  that  ter- 
rible hour  as  if  illumined  by  a  reflection  from  the  Divine. 
"  It  is  not  exacted  of  us,"  she  said,  "  as  it  was  of  the  ancient 
martyrs,  that  we  sacrifice  our  beliefs ;  all  they  ask  of  us  is 
the  abandonment  of  our  miserable  lives.  Let  us  make  that 
feeble  sacrifice  to  God  with  resignation." 

So,  in  these  last  moments  of  life  a  great  joy  was  given  to 
her ;  she  revived  the  numbed  or  aching  hearts,  she  restored 
the  vigour  of  their  faith  to  fainting  souls,  she  blunted  the 
sting  of  death,  and  brought  to  eyes  despairing  of  earth,  the 
light  of  the  true  deliverance. 

The  next  morning  the  gates  of  the  prison  opened  and  the 
carts  of  the  executioner,  called  by  Barfere  "  the  biers  of  the 
living,"  came  out.  Madame  Elisabeth  was  in  the  first  with 
others,  among  them  Mme.  de  S^nozan  and  Mme.  de  Crussol- 
Amboise,  to  whom  she  talked  during  the  passage  from  the 
Conciergerie  to  the  Place  Louis  XV.  Arriving  there,  she 
was  the  first  to  descend ;  the  executioner  offered  his  hand, 
but  the  princess  looked  the  other  way  and  needed  no  help. 
At  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  was  a  long  bench  on  which  the 


Iu6  lAVE   AND    LirrrEKS   OF  [cuAi-.  III. 

victims  were  lold  to  sk.  Uy  a  refinement  of  cruelty  Ma- 
dame Elisabeth  was  placed  nearest  the  steps  to  the  scaffold, 
but  she  was  the  last  of  the  twenty-five  called  to  ascend 
them ;  she  was  to  see  and  hear  the  killing  of  them  all  before 
her  turn  should  come.  During  that  time  she  never  ceased 
to  say  the  De  profundis ;  she  who  was  about  to  die  prayed 
fur  the  dead. 

The  first  to  be  called  was  Mme.  de  CrussoL  She  rose  im- 
mediately; as  she  passed  Madame  Elisabeth  she  curtsied, 
and  then,  bending  forward,  asked  to  be  allowed  to  kiss  her. 
"  Willingly,  and  with  all  my  heart,"  replied  the  princess. 
All  the  other  women,  ten  in  number,  did  likewise.  The 
men,  as  they  passed  her,  each  bowed  low  the  head  that  an 
instant  later  was  to  fall  into  the  basket.  When  the  twenty- 
fourth  bowed  thus  before  her,  she  said :  "  Courage,  and  faith 
in  God's  mercy."  Then  she  rose  herself,  to  be  ready  at  the 
call  of  the  executioner.  She  mounted  firmly  the  steps  of  the 
scaffold.  Again  the  man  offered  his  hand,  but  withdrew  it, 
seeing  from  her  bearing  that  she  needed  no  help.  With  an 
upward  look  to  heaven,  she  gave  herself  into  the  hands  of 
the  executioner.  As  he  fastened  her  to  the  fatal  plank,  her 
neckerchief  came  loose  and  fell  to  the  ground.  "  In  the  name 
of  your  mother,  monsieur,  cover  me,"  she  said.  Those  were 
her  last  words. 

At  this  execution  alone,  no  cries  of  "  Vive  la  Revolution ! " 
were  raised ;  the  crowd  dispersed  silently.  The  eye-witness 
from  whose  lips  this  account  was  written  down,  added : 
"  "When  I  saw  the  cart  on  which  they  were  placing  the  bodies 
and  heads  of  the  victims,  I  fled  like  the  wind."  The  cart 
held  two  baskets ;  into  one  of  which  they  threw  the  mound 
of  bodies ;  into  the  other  the  heap  of  heads.  These  were 
taken  to  the  cemetery  at  Mon^eaux,  and  flung  into  a  grave 
twelve  feet  square,  one  upon  another,  naked,  because  the 


1  J3;f  MADAME   ELISABETH  DE  FRANCE.  107 

clothes  were  a  perquisite  of  the  State.  In  1816,  Louis 
XVIII.,  wishing  to  give  his  sister  Christian  burial,  ordered 
a  search  to  be  made  for  her  remains.  The  searchers 
fancied  they  discovered  her  body,  but  her  head  was  never 
found. 


Mom.  Vi-r.  !) 


JOUENAL   OF   THE   TOWEE   OF   THE   TEMPLE 
DUEING   THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   LOUIS   XVI. 

By  Cl]^ky, 
His  Valet  de  Chamhre. 


PART  SECOND 
JOURNAL  OF  THE  TOWER  OF  THE  TEMPLE 

DURING   THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI, 
BY  CL^RY. 


CHAPTER  L 

The  10th  of  August,  1792.—  Clery  permitted  to  serve  the  King  and  his 
Family. —  Life  and  Treatment  of  the  Royal  Family  in  the  Tower  of  the 
Temple. 

I  SERVED  the  king  and  his  august  family  five  months  in 
the  Tower  of  the  Temple ;  and  in  spite  of  the  close  watching 
of  the  municipal  officers  who  were  the  keepers  of  it,  I  was 
able,  either  in  writing  or  by  other  means,  to  take  certain 
notes  on  the  principal  events  which  took  place  in  the  interior 
of  that  prison. 

In  combining  these  notes  in  the  form  of  a  journal,  my 
intention  is  more  to  furnish  materials  to  those  who  may  write 
the  history  of  the  deplorable  end  of  the  unfortunate  liouis 
XVL  than  to  compose  memoirs  myself ;  for  which  I  have 
neither  talent  nor  pretension. 

Sole  and  continual  witness  of  the  injurious  treatment  the 
king  and  his  family  were  made  to  endure,  I  alone  can  write 
it  down  and  affirm  the  exact  truth. 

Though  attached  since  the  year  1782  to  the  royal  family, 
and  witness,  through  the  nature  of  my  service,  of  the  most 
disastrous  events  during  the  course  of  the  Revolution,  it  would 
be  going  outside  of  my  subject  to  describe  them;  they  are. 


UJ  MADAME    KLlbABETll   DK    FJiANCK.  [tiiAi.  i. 

for  the.  most  pari,  already  collected  in  different  works.  I 
shall  begin  this  journal  at  the  period  of  August  10,  1792, 
dreadful  day,  when  a  few  men  overturnetl  a  throne  of  four- 
teen centuries,  put  their  king  in  fetters,  and  precipitated 
France  into  an  abyss  of  horrors. 

I  was  on  service  with  the  dauphin  at  that  period.  From 
the  morning  of  the  9th  the  agitation  in  the  minds  of  all  was 
extreme ;  groups  were  forming  throughout  Paris,  and  we 
heard  with  certainty  in  the  Tuileries  that  the  conspirators 
had  a  plan.  The  tocsin  was  to  ring  at  midnight  in  all  parts 
of  the  city,  and  the  Marseillais,  uniting  with  the  inhabitants 
of  the  faubourg  Saint-Antoine,  were  to  march  at  once  and 
besiege  the  chateau.  Detained  by  my  functions  in  the  apart- 
ment of  the  young  prince  and  beside  his  person,  I  knew  only 
in  part  what  was  happening  outside.  I  shall  here  relate 
none  but  events  which  I  witnessed  during  that  day  when  so 
many  different  scenes  took  place  even  in  the  palace. 

On  the  evening  of  the  9th  at  half-past  eight  o'clock,  hav' 
ing  put  the  dauphin  to  bed,  I  left  the  Tuileries  to  try  to  learn 
what  was  the  state  of  public  opinion.  The  courtyards  of  the 
chateau  were  filled  with  about  eight  thousand  National  guards 
from  the  different  sections,  placed  there  to  defend  the  king. 
I  went  to  the  Palais-Royal,  of  which  I  foimd  all  the  exits 
closed ;  National  guards  were  there  under  arms,  ready  to 
march  to  the  Tuileries  and  support  the  battalions  already 
there ;  but  a  populace,  excited  by  factious  persons,  filled  the 
neighbouring  streets,  and  its  clamour  resounded  on  all  sides. 

I  re-entered  the  chateau  towards  eleven  o'clock  through 
the  king's  apartments.  The  persons  belonging  to  the  Court, 
and  those  on  duty  were  collected  there  in  a  state  of  anxiety. 
I  passed  on  to  the  dauphin's  apartment,  where,  an  instant 
later,  I  heard  the  tocsin  rung  and  the  generale  beaten  in  all 
quarters  of  Paris.     I  remained  in  the  salon  until  five  in  the 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS   XVI.  113 

niorning  with  Mme.  de  Saint-Brice,  waiting-woman  to '  the 
young  prince.  At  six  o'clock  the  king  went  down  into  all 
the  courtyards  of  the  chateau  and  reviewed  the  National 
Guard  and  the  Swiss  Guard,  who  swore  to  defend  him.  The 
queen  and  her  children  followed  the  king.  A  few  seditious 
voices  were  heard  in  the  ranks,  but  they  were  soon  smothered 
by  the  shouts,  repeated  hundreds  of  times,  of  "  Vive  le  roi ! 
Vive  la  nation !  " 

The  attack  on  the  Tuileries  not  seeming  near  as  yet,  I  went 
out  a  second  time  and  followed  the  quays  as  far  as  the  Pont 
Neuf.  I  met  everywhere  collections  of  armed  men  whose 
bad  intentions  were  not  doubtful;  they  carried  pikes,  pitch- 
forks, axes,  and  pruning-hooks.  The  battalion  of  the  Mar- 
seillais  marched  in  fine  order  with  cannon,  matches  lighted ; 
they  invited  the  people  to  follow  them  "  to  aid,"  they  said, 
"  in  dislodging  the  tyrant  and  proclaiming  his  dethronement 
before  the  National  Assembly."  Too  certain  now  of  what 
was  going  to  happen,  but  consulting  only  my  duty,  I  went 
ahead  of  this  battalion  and  re-entered  the  Tuileries.  A 
numerous  body  of  National  guards  were  pouring  out  in  dis- 
order through  the  gate  of  the  gardens  opposite  the  Pont-Eoyal. 
Distress  was  painted  on  the  faces  of  most  of  them.  Several 
said :  "  We  swore  this  morning  to  defend  the  king,  and  at 
the  moment  when  he  runs  the  greatest  danger  we  abandon 
him  ! "  Others,  on  the  side  of  the  conspirators  insulted  and 
thi-eatened  their  comrades  and  forced  them  to  go  away.  The 
good  men  let  themselves  be  ruled  by  the  seditious ;  and  this 
culpable  weakness,  which,  so  far,  had  produced  all  the  evils  of 
the  Revolution,  was  the  beginning  of  the  misfortunes  of  that 
fatal  day. 

After  many  fruitless  attempts  to  re-enter  the  chateau,  I 
was  recognized  by  the  Swiss  Guard  of  one  of  the  gates,  and 
I  succeeded  in  entering.     I  went  at  once  to  the  king's  apart- 


114  MADAMH    MMSAHKTII    DH    FRANCE.  [chap.  i. 

iiuMit.and  bt-'g^'oil  that  some  Diie  on  service  would  inform  His 
Majesty  of  what  I  liad  seen  and  heard. 

At  seven  o'clock,  anxiety  was  greatly  increased  by  the 
baseness  of  several  battalions  which  successively  abandoned 
the  Tidleries.  Those  of  the  National  Guard  who  remained 
at  their  post,  in  number  about  four  or  five  hundred,  showed 
as  much  fidelity  as  courage.  They  were  placed,  indiscrimin- 
ately with  the  Swiss,  about  the  interior  of  the  palace,  on  the 
staircases,  and  at  all  the  exits.  These  troops  had  passed  the 
night  without  food ;  I  hastened,  with  other  servants  of  the 
king,  to  carry  them  bread  and  wine,  and  encourage  them  not 
to  abandon  the  royal  family.  It  was  then  that  the  king 
gave  the  command  of  the  interior  of  his  palace  to  the  Mar^- 
chal  de  Mailly,  the  Due  du  Chatelet,  the  Comte  de  Puys^gur, 
the  Baron  de  Viomesnil,  the  Count  d'Hervilly,  the  Marquis 
du  Pajet,  etc.  The  persons  of  the  Court,  and  those  on  ser- 
vice were  distributed  into  the  different  rooms,  after  swearing 
to  defend  till  death  the  person  of  the  king.  We  were,  in  all, 
about  three  or  four  hundred,  but  without  other  arms  than 
swords  and  pistols. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  danger  became  pressing.  The  Legis- 
lative Assembly  held  its  meetings  in  the  Riding-school,  which 
looked  upon  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries.  The  king  sent  sev- 
eral messages  informing  it  of  the  position  in  which  he  was 
placed,  and  inviting  it  to  appoint  a  deputation  which  would 
aid  him  with  advice.  The  Assembly,  although  the  attack  on 
the  chateau  was  preparing  before  its  eyes,  made  no  reply. 

A  few  moments  later  the  department  of  Paris  and  several 
municipals  entered  the  chateau,  with  Ptoederer,  then  prosecu- 
tor-general, at  their  head.  Roederer,  doubtless  in  collusion 
with  the  conspirators,  urged  His  Majesty  eagerly  to  go  with 
his  family  to  the  Assembly ;  he  assured  the  king  that  he 
could  no  longer  rely  on  the  National  Guard,  and  that  if  he 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  115 

remained  in  the  palace,  neither  the  department  nor  the  mmii- 
cipality  of  Paris  would  be  answerable  for  his  safety. 

The  king  listened  without  emotion ;  he  retired  to  his  cham- 
ber with  the  queen,  the  ministers,  and  a  small  number  of 
persons  ;  and,  soon  after,  came  out  of  it  to  go  with  his  family 
to  the  Assembly.  He  was  surrovmded  by  a  detachment  of 
the  Swiss  and  the  National  Guard.  Of  all  the  persons  on 
duty,  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe  and  Mme.  de  Tourzel  were 
the  only  ones  who  had  permission  to  follow  the  royal  family. 
Mme.  de  Tourzel  was  obliged,  in  order  that  the  young  prince 
might  not  go  unattended,  to  leave  her  daughter,  seventeen 
years  of  age,  ui  the  Tuileries  among  the  soldiers.  It  was 
then  nearly  nine  o'clock. 

Forced  .to  remain  in  the  apartments,  I  waited  with  terror 
the  results  of  the  king's  action ;  I  was  near  the  windows  that 
looked  into  the  garden.  It  was  more  than  an  hour  after  the 
royal  family  had  entered  the  Assembly,  when  I  saw  on  the 
terrace  of  the  Feuillants  four  heads  on  pikes  which  were 
being  carried  towards  the  Assembly.  That  was,  I  think,  the 
signal  for  the  attack  on  the  chateau,  for,  at  the  same  moment, 
a  terrible  fire  of  cannon  and  musketry  was  heard.  The  balls 
and  the  bullets  riddled  the  palace.  The  king  no  longer 
being  there,  every  one  thought  of  his  own  safety ;  but  .all  the 
exits  were  closed  and  certain  death  awaited  us.  I  ran  hither 
and  thither ;  already  the  apartments  and  the  staircases  were 
heaped  with  dead ;  I  determined  to  spring  upon  the  terrace 
through  one  of  the  windows  of  the  queen's  apartment.  I 
crossed  the  parterre  rapidly  to  reach  the  Pont-Tournant.  A 
number  of  the  Swiss  Guard  who  had  preceded  me  were  rally- 
ing under  the  trees.  Placed  thus,  between  two  fires,  I  re- 
turned upon  my  steps  to  reach  the  new  stairway  to  the 
terrace  on  the  water-side.  I  meant  to  jump  upon  the  quay, 
but  a  continual  fire  from  the  Pont-lloyal  prevented  me.     I 


IK)  MAHAMK    ICLISABETH    DK    FRANCP:.  [(  hap.  r. 

wi'iii  along  the  same  side  to  the  pate  of  tlie  dauphin's  gai- 
ilou  ;  there,  some  Marseillais  wlio  had  just  massacred  several 
Swiss  were  stripping  the  bodies.  One  of  them  came  to  me. 
"  What,  citizen,"  he  said,  "  have  you  no  arms  ?  Take  this 
sword  and  help  us  to  kill."  Another  Marseillais  snatched 
the  weapon.  I  was,  in  fact,  without  arms  and  wearing  a 
plain  coat ;  had  anything  indicated  that  I  was  on  service  in 
the  palace,  I  should  certainly  not  have  escaped. 

Several  Swiss,  being  pursued,  took  refuge  in  a  stable  not 
far  off.  I  myself  hid  there ;  the  Swiss  were  soon  massacred 
at  my  side.  Hearing  the  cries  of  those  unhappy  victims,  the 
master  of  the  house,  M.  le  Dreux,  rushed  in.  I  profited  by 
that  moment  to  slip  into  his  house.  Without  knowing  me, 
M.  le  Dreux  and  his  wife  asked  me  to  remain  until  the 
danger  was  over. 

I  had  in  my  pocket  some  letters  and  newspapers  ad- 
dressed to  the  young  prince;  also  my  entrance-card  to  the 
Tuileries,  on  which  was  written  my  name  and  the  nature  of 
my  service  ;  these  papers  would  have  made  me  known.  I 
had  barely  time  to  throw  them  away  before  an  armed 
troop  searched  the  house  to  make  sure  that  no  Swiss  were 
hidden  there.  M.  le  Dreux  told  me  to  pretend  to  be 
working  at  some  drawings  lying  on  a  large  table.  After 
a  fruitless  search,  the  men,  their  hands  stained  with  blood, 
stopped  to  coldly  relate  their  murders.  I  remained  in  that 
asylum  from  ten  in  the  morning  till  four  in  the  afternoon, 
having  before  my  eyes  the  horrors  committed  on  the  Place 
Louis  XV.  Some  men  murdered,  others  cut  off  the  heads 
of  the  bodies,  women,  forgetting  all  decency,  mutilated  the 
bodies,  tore  off  the  fragments,  and  carried  them  in  triumph. 

During  this  interval,  Mme.  de  Eambaut,  waiting-woman 
to  the  dauphin,  who  had  with  difficulty  escaped  from  the 
massacre  at  the  Tuileries,  came  to  take  refuge  in  the  same 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   LOUIS   XVI.  117 

house  ;  a  few  signs  that  we  made  to  each  other  enjoined 
silence.  The  sons  of  our  host,  coming  in  at  that  moment 
from  the  National  Assembly,  informed  us  that  the  king, 
"  suspended  from  his  functions,"  was  closely  guarded,  with 
the  royal  family,  in  the  box  of  the  reporter  of  the  "  Logo- 
graphe,"  and  that  it  was  impossible  to  approach  him. 

That  being  so,  I  resolved  to  go  to  my  wife  and  children, 
in  a  country  place,  five  leagues  from  Paris,  where  I  had 
had  a  house  for  two  years ;  but  the  barriers  were  closed, 
and,  moreover,  I  could  not  abandon  Mme.  de  Eambaut. 
We  agreed  to  take  the  route  to  Versailles,  where  she  lived ; 
the  sons  of  our  host  accompanied  us.  We  crossed  the 
bridge,  Louis  XV.,  which  was  covered  witli  naked  dead 
bodies,  already  putrefying  in  the  great  heat,  and  after  many 
dangers  we  left  Paris  through  a  breach  which  was  not 
guarded. 

On  the  plain  of  Grenelle,  we  were  met  by  peasants  on 
horseback,  who  shouted  at  us  from  a  distance,  and  threat- 
ened us  with  their  guns :  "  Stop,  or  death  ! "  One  of  them, 
taking  me  for  a  guard,  aimed  and  was  about  to  shoot  me, 
when  another  proposed  to  take  us  to  the  municipality  of 
Vaugirard.  "There  is  already  a  score  of  them  there,"  he 
said ;  "  the  killing  will  be  all  the  greater."  Peaching  the 
municipality,  our  host's  sons  were  recognized:  the  mayor 
questioned  me :  "  Why,  when  the  country  is  in  danger, 
are  you  not  where  you  belong  ?  Why  are  you  leaving 
Paris  ?  That  shows  bad  intentions."  "  Yes,  yes,"  cried  the 
populace,  "  to  prison,  those  aristocrats,  to  prison  ! "  "  It  is 
precisely  because  I  am  on  my  way  to  where  I  belong,  that 
you  find  me  on  the  road  to  Versailles,  where  I  live ;  tliat  is 
my  post  just  as  much  as  this  is  yours."  They  questioned 
Mme.  de  Eambaut;  our  host  assured  them  we  spoke  the 
truth,  and  they  gave  us  passports.     I  ought  to  render  thanks 


118  MADAMK    f;LISABi;TII    DE   FRANCE.  [riiAi-.  i. 

to  rr(>\iilenco  for  not  having  been  taken  to  the  prison  of 
Vaugirard ;  wliere  they  had  just  put  twenty-three  of  the 
king's  guards,  who  were  afterwards  taken  to  the  Abbaye 
and  massacred  there,  on  the  2d  of  September. 

From  Vaugirard  to  Versailles,  patrols  of  armed  men 
stopped  us  continually  to  examine  our  passports.  I  took 
Mme.  Eambaut  to  her  parents,  and  then  started  to  return  to 
my  family.  A  fall  I  had  in  jumping  from  the  window  of 
the  Tuileries,  the  fatigue  of  a  tramp  of  twelve  leagues,  and 
my  painful  reflections  on  the  deplorable  events  which  had 
just  taken  place,  overcame  me  to  such  a  degree  that  I  had 
a  very  high  fever.  I  was  in  bed  three  days,  but,  impatient 
to  know  the  fate  of  the  king,  I  surmounted  my  illness  and 
returned  to  Paris. 

On  arriving  there  I  heard  that  the  royal  family,  after 
being  kept  since  the  10th  at  the  Feuillants,  had  just  been 
taken  to  the  Temple ;  that  the  king  had  chosen  to  serve 
him  M.  de  Chamilly,  his  head  valet  de  chamhre,  and  that 
M.  Hue,  usher  of  the  king's  bedchamber,  was  to  serve  the 
dauphin.  Tlie  Princesse  de  Lamballe,  Mme.  de  Tourzel, 
and  her  daughter,  Mile.  Pauline  de  Tourzel,  had  accom- 
panied the  queen.  Mmes.  Thibaut,  Bazire,  Navarre,  and 
Saint-Brice,  waiting-women,  had  followed  the  three  prin- 
cesses and  the  young  prince. 

I  then  lost  all  hope  of  continuing  my  functions  towards 
the  dauphin,  and  I  was  about  to  return  to  the  country 
when,  on  the  sixth  day  of  the  king's  imprisonment,  I  was 
informed  that  all  the  persons  who  were  in  the  Tower  with 
the  royal  family,  had  been  removed,  and,  after  examination 
before  the  council  of  the  Commune  of  Paris,  were  consigned 
to  the  prison  of  La  Force,  with  the  sole  exception  of  M. 
Hue,  who  was  taken  back  to  the  Temple  to  serve  the  king. 
Potion,  then  mayor  of  Paris,  was  charged  with  the  duty  of 


1792]  THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  119 

selecting  two  others.  Learning  of  these  arrangements,  I 
resolved  to  try  every  possible  means  to  resume  my  place 
in  the  service  of  the  young  prince.  I  vt^ent  to  see  Potion; 
he  told  me  that  as  I  had  belonged  to  the  household  of  the 
king,  I  could  not  obtain  the  consent  of  the  Commune.  I 
cited  M.  Huii,  who  had  just  been  sent  by  the  council  itself, 
to  serve  the  king.  Potion  promised  to  support  a  memorial 
which  I  gave  him,  but  I  told  him  it  was  necessary  above 
all,  that  he  should  inform  the  king  of  this  step.  Two  days 
later,  he  wrote  to  His  Majesty  as  follows :  — 

'*  Sire,  —  The  valet  de  chamhre  attached  to  the  prince-royal 
from  infancy  asks  to  be  allowed  to  continue  his  service  with 
him ;  as  I  think  the  proposal  will  be  agreeable  to  you,  I 
have  acceded  to  his  request,"  etc. 

His  Majesty  answered  in  writing  that  he  accepted  me  for 
the  service  of  his  son,  and,  in  consequence,  I  was  taken  to 
the  Temple.  There,  I  was  searched  ;  they  gave  me  advice 
as  to  the  manner  in  which,  they  said,  I  must  conduct  my- 
self ;  and  the  same  day,  August  26,  at  eight  in  the  evening, 
I  entered  the  Tower  of  the  Temple. 

It  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  describe  the  impression 
made  upon  me  by  the  sight  of  that  august  and  unfortunate 
family.  The  queen  was  the  one  who  spoke  to  me.  After  a 
few  words  of  kindness,  she  added  :  "  You  will  serve  my  son, 
and  you  will  arrange  with  M.  Hue  in  all  that  concerns 
us."  I  was  so  oppressed  with  feeliogs  that  I  could  scarcely 
answer  her. 

During  the  supper,  the  queen  and  the  princesses,  who  had 
been  a  week  without  their  women,  asked  me  if  I  could  comb 
their  hair ;  I  replied  that  I  would  do  whatever  they  desired 
of  me.  A  municipal  officer  thereupon  came  uj)  to  me,  and 
told  me  to  be  more  circumspect  in  my  answers.  I  was 
frightened  at  such  a  beginning. 


120  MADAME   ^:LISABETII   1)10   FRANCE.  [chap.  i. 

During  the  first  eight  days  that  I  passed  in  the  Temple,  I 
hail  no  communication  with  the  exterior.  M.  Hue  was  alone 
chai'ged  wiili  asking  for  and  receiving  the  things  necessary 
for  the  royal  family ;  I  served  conjointly  and  indiscrimi- 
nately with  him.  My  service  to  the  king  was  confined  to 
dressing  his  hair  in  the  morning  and  rolling  it  at  night ;  I 
noticed  that  I  was  watched  incessantly  by  the  municipal 
officers ;  a  mere  nothing  displeased  them ;  I  kept  on  my 
guard  to  avoid  any  imprudence,  which,  would  infallibly  have 
mined  me. 

On  the  2d  of  September,  there  was  much  disturbance 
around  the  Temple.  The  king  and  his  family  went  down 
as  usual  to  walk  in  the  garden ;  a  municipal  who  followed  the 
king  said  to  one  of  his  colleagues :  "  "VVe  did  wrong  to  con- 
sent to  let  them  walk  this  afternoon."  I  had  noticed  all  that 
morning  the  uneasiness  of  the  commissioners.  They  now 
hurried  the  royal  family  into  the  building ;  but  they  were 
scarcely  assembled  in  the  queen's  room  before  two  municipal 
officers  who  were  not  on  duty  at  the  Tower  entered.  One  of 
them,  Matthieu,  an  ex-capucin  friar,  said  to  the  king :  "  You 
are  ignorant  of  what  is  going  on;  the  country  is  in  the  great- 
est danger;  the  enemy  has  entered  Champagne;  the  King 
of  Prussia  is  marching  on  Chalons ;  you  are  answerable  for 
all  the  harm  that  will  come  of  it.  We,  our  wives  and 
children,  may  perish,  but  you  first,  before  us;  the  people 
will  be  avenged."  —  "I  have  done  all  for  the  people,"  said 
the  king ;  "  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with." 

This  same  Matthieu  said  to  M.  Hue :  "  The  Council  has 
ordered  me  to  put  you  under  arrest."  "  Who  ? "  asked 
the  king.  "  Your  valet  de  chamhre."  The  king  wished  to 
know  of  what  crime  he  was  accused,  but  could  learn  noth- 
ing, which  made  him.  very  uneasy  as  to  M.  Hue's  fate ;  he 
recommended  him  earnestly  to  the  two  municipal  officers. 


1792]  THE  CArTlViTY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  l2l 

They  put  the  seals  on  the  little  room  he  had  occupied,  and 
he  went  away  with  them  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  after 
having  passed  twenty  days  in  the  Temple.  As  he  went  out, 
Matthieu  said  to  me :  "  Take  care  how  you  behave,  or  the 
same  thing  may  happen  to  you." 

The  king  called  me  a  moment  after,  and  gave  me  some 
papers  which  M.  Hue  had  returned  to  him ;  they  were  ac- 
counts of  expenditures.  The  uneasy  air  of  the  municipals, 
the  clamour  of  the  people  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Tower,  agitated  his  heart  cruelly.  After  he  had  gone  to  bed, 
he  told  me  to  pass  the  night  beside  him ;  I  placed  a  bed  be- 
side that  of  His  Majesty. 

On  the  3d  of  September,  while  I  was  dressing  the  king, 
he  asked  me  if  I  had  heard  anything  of  M.  Hue,  and  if  I 
knew  any  news  of  Paris.  I  answered  that  during  the  night 
I  had  heard  a  mimicipal  say  that  the  people  were  attacking 
the  prisons,  and  that  I  would  try  to  get  more  information. 
"  Take  care  not  to  compromise  yourself,"  said  the  king,  "  for 
then  we  should  be  left  alone,  and  I  fear  their  intention  is  to 
surround  us  with  strangers." 

At  eleven  o'clock  that  morning,  the  king  being  with  his 
family  in  the  queen's  room,  a  municipal  told  me  to  go  into 
that  of  the  king,  where  I  should  find  Manuel  and  several 
members  of  the  Commune.  Manuel  asked  me  what  the 
king  had  said  about  M.  Hue's  removal.  I  answered  that 
His  Majesty  was  uneasy  at  it.  "Nothing  will  happen  to 
him,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  ordered  to  inform  the  king  that  he 
will  not  return,  and  that  the  Council  will  put  some  one  in 
his  place.  You  can  warn  the  king  of  this."  I  begged  him 
to  excuse  me  from  doing  so ;  I  added  that  the  king  desired 
to  see  him  in  regard  to  many  things,  of  which  the  royal  fam- 
ily was  in  the  greatest  need.  Manuel,  with  difficulty,  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  into  the  room  where  His  Majesty  was ;  he 


122  MADAiME   KLISABETU  DE  FUANCE.  [chap.  i. 

then  lold  him  of  tlie  ileoision  of  the  Council,  in  relation  to 
M.  Hue,  ami  warneil  him  lluit  another  person  would  he  sent. 
"  I  thank  you,"  replied  the  kmg,  "  hut  1  sluUl  use  the  ser- 
vices of  my  son's  valet  de  chamhre,  and  if  the  Council  op- 
poses it,  I  shall  serve  myself.  I  am  resolved  on  this." 
Manuel  said  he  would  speak  of  it  to  the  Council,  and 
retired.  I  asked  him,  as  I  showed  him  out,  if  the  disturb- 
ances in  Paris  continued.  He  made  me  fear  by  his  answers 
that  the  people  would  attack  the  Temple.  "  You  are  charged 
with  a  diliicult  duty,"  he  added.     "  I  exhort  you  to  courage." 

At  one  o'clock  the  king  and  his  family  expressed  a  wish 
to  take  their  walk ;  it  was  refused.  During  dinner  the  noise 
of  drums  and  the  shouts  of  the  populace  were  heard.  The 
royal  family  left  the  dinner  table  iu  a  state  of  anxiety,  and 
again  collected  in  the  queen's  room.  I  went  down  to  dine 
with  Tison  and  his  wife,  who  were  employed  as  servants  in 
the  Tower. 

We  were  hardly  seated  before  a  head  at  the  end  of  a  pike 
was  presented  at  the  window.  Tison's  wife  screamed  loudly ; 
the  murderers  thoilght  it  was  the  queen's  voice,  and  we  heard 
the  frantic  laughs  of  those  barbarians.  Thinking  that  Her 
Majesty  was  still  at  table,  they  had  raised  the  victim's  head 
so  that  it  could  not  escape  her  sight ;  it  was  that  of  the  Prin- 
cesse  de  Lamballe.  Though  bloody,  it  was  not  disfigured ; 
her  blond  hair,  still  curling,  floated  around  the  pike. 

I  ran  at  once  to  the  king.  Terror  had  so  changed  my  face 
that  the  queen  noticed  it ;  it  was  important  to  hide  the  cause 
from  her ;  I  meant  to  warn  the  king  and  Madame  Elisabeth ; 
but  the  two  municipals  were  present.  "  Wliy  do  you  not  go 
to  dinner  ?  "  asked  the  queen.  "  Madame,"  I  answered, "  I  do 
not  feel  well."  At  that  moment  a  municipal  entered  the 
room  and  spoke  mysteriously  with  his  colleagues.  The 
king   asked   if    his    family   were   in  safety.      "There  is   a 


.^-<«i^     ..^.^^^i^^^^y^'T^'^^' 


1792]  THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  123 

rumour  going,"  they  replied,  "  that  you  and  your  family  are 
no  longer  in  the  Tower ;  the  people  want  you  to  appear  at 
the  window,  but  we  shall  not  allow  it ;  the  people  ought  to 
show  more  confidence  in  their  magistrates." 

The  cries  and  shouts  outside  increased ;  we  heard,  very 
distinctly,  insults  addressed  to  the  queen.  Another  munici- 
pal came  in,  followed  by  four  men  deputed  by  the  people  to 
make  sure  that  the  king  and  his  family  were  in  the  Tower. 
One  of  them,  in  the  uniform  of  the  National  Guard,  wearing 
two  epaulets  and  carrying  a  large  sabre,  insisted  that  the  pris- 
oners should  show  themselves  at  the  window.  The  munici- 
pals opposed  it.  The  man  then  said  to  the  queen  in  the 
coarsest  tone :  "  They  want  to  prevent  your  seeing  the 
Lamballe's  head,  which  has  been  brought  here  to  show  you 
how  the  people  avenge  themselves  on  tyrants ;  I  advise  you 
to  appear."  The  queen  fainted ;  I  ran  to  her  support ;  Ma- 
dame illisabeth  helped  me  to  place  her  in  an  arm-chair ;  her 
children  burst  into  tears  and  tried  by  their  caresses  to  bring 
her  to.  The  man  did  not  go  away ;  the  king  said  to  him 
firml}  :  "  We  expect  everything,  monsieur;  but  you  might 
have  refrained  from  telling  the  queen  of  that  dreadful 
thing."  The  man  then  went  out  with  his  comrades ;  their 
object  was  accomplished. 

The  queen,  recovering  her  senses,  wept  with  her  children, 
and  passed  with  the  family  into  the  room  of  Madame  Tillisa- 
beth,  where  less  was  heard  of  the  clamours  of  the  populace. 
I  remained  a  moment  longer  in  the  queen's  room,  and,  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  through  the  blinds,  I  saw  the  head  of 
Madame  de  Lamballe  a  second  time ;  the  man  who  canied 
it  had  mounted  a  pile  of  rubbish,  fallen  from  the  houses  they 
were  demolishing  to  isolate  the  Tower ;  another  man  beside 
him  carried  the  bloody  heart  of  the  unfortunate  princess. 

They  wanted  to  force  in  the  door  of  the  Tower ;  a  municipal, 
9  Mem.  Vcr.  9 


124  MADAME   i:LlSAIJETlI   DE   FRANCE.  [cuap.  i. 

named  Panjeon,  harangued  them,  and  I  very  distinctly 
heard  him  say :  "  The  head  of  Antoinette  does  not  belong 
to  you ;  the  department  has  rights ;  France  confided  the 
keeping  of  these  great  criminals  to  the  city  of  Paris;  it 
is  for  you  to  help  us  to  keep  them  until  national  justice 
avenges  the  people."  It  was  only  after  one  hour's  resistance 
that  he  succeeded  in  making  them  go  away. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  one  of  the  commissioners 
told  me  that  the  populace  had  attempted  to  enter  with  the 
deputation,  and  to  carry  into  the  tower  the  naked  and  bloody 
corpse  of  Madame  de  Lamballe,  which  they  had  dragged  from 
the  prison  of  La  Force  to  the  Temple;  he  said  that  the  mu- 
nicipals, after  struggling  for  some  time  with  the  mob,  finally 
opposed  them  by  tying  a  tri-colour  ribbon  across  the  prin- 
cipal entrance  to  the  Tower ;  that  they  had  vainly  requested 
the  help  of  the  Commune  of  Paris,  of  General  Santerre,  and 
of  the  National  Assembly,  to  stop  designs  which  were  not 
concealed,  and  that  for  six  hours  it  was  uncertain  whether 
the  royal  family  would  or  would  not  be  massacred.  The 
truth  is  the  factious  were  not  yet  all-powerful ;  the  leaders, 
though  agi-eed  as  to  the  regicide,  were  not  agreed  as  to  the 
method  of  executing  it,  and  perhaps  the  Assembly  desired 
that  other  hands  than  its  own  should  be  the  instrument  of 
the  conspiracy.  A  cncumstance  sufficiently  remarkable  is 
that  the  municipal  made  me  pay  him  forty  sous  which  the 
tri-colour  ribbon  had  cost  him. 

By  eight  o'clock  that  evening  all  was  quiet  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Tower,  but  the  same  tranquillity  was  very 
far  from  reigning  in  Paris,  where  the  massacres  continued 
for  four  or  five  days.  I  had  an  opportunity  while  undress- 
ing the  king  to  tell  him  what  I  had  seen  and  give  him  the 
details  I  had  heard.  He  asked  me  which  were  the  muni- 
cipals who  had  shown  the  greatest  firmness  in  defending  the 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS   XVI.  125 

lives  of  his  family.  I  told  him  of  Daujeon,  who  had  checked 
the  impetuosity  of  the  people,  though  he  was  far  from  being 
in  favour  of  the  king.  That  municipal  did  not  retiu-n  to  the 
Tower  until  four  months  later,  but  the  king  remembered  his 
conduct  and  thanked  him  then. 

The  scenes  of  horror  of  which  I  have  just  spoken  were 
followed  by  some  tranquillity,  so  that  the  royal  family  con- 
tinued the  uniform  system  of  life  which  they  had  adopted 
on  entering  the  Temple.  That  the  reader  may  follow  its 
details  easily,  I  think  I  ought  to  place  here  a  description  of 
the  small  tower  in  which  the  king  was  then  confined. 

It  backed  upon  the  large  Tower,  without  any  interior  com- 
munication between  the  two,  and  it  formed  an  oblong  square 
flanked  by  two  small,  corner  towers  [tourelles].  In  one  of 
these  small  towers  was  a  little  staircase  that  started  from 
the  second  floor  and  led  up  to  a  gallery  along  the  eaves ;  in 
the  other  were  little  cabinets  which  were  alike  on  each  floor 
of  the  tower. 

The  building  had  four  floors.  The  first  was  composed  of 
an  antechamber,  a  dining-room,  and  a  cabinet  made  in  one 
of  the  tourelles,  in  which  was  a  library  of  some  twelve  to 
fifteen  hundred  volumes. 

The  second  floor  was  divided  in  about  the  same  manner. 
The  largest  room  was  made  the  bed-chamber  of  the  queen 
and  the  dauphin ;  the  second  room,  separated  from  the  first 
by  a  small  and  dark  antechamber,  was  the  bedroom  of  Ma- 
dame Elisabeth  and  Madame  Royale.  It  was  necessary 
to  cross  this  room  to  enter  the  cabinet  made  in  the  tour  die, 
and  that  cabinet,  which  served  as  a  privy  to  the  entire  main 
building,  was  common  to  the  royal  family,  the  municipal 
officers,  and  the  soldiers. 

The  king  lived  on  the  third  floor,  and  slept  in  the  large 
room.     The  cabinet  made  in  the  tourelle  was  used  by  him 


120  MADAME  Elisabeth  de  France.        [cuap.  i. 

as  a  reading-room.  On  one  side  was  a  kitchen,  separated 
from  the  king's  bedchamber  by  a  small  dark  room,  occupied 
at  first  by  MM.  de  Chamilly  and  lluii  and  now  sealed  up. 
The  fourth  floor  was  closed  and  locked.  On  the  ground-floor 
were  kitchens  of  which  no  use  was  made. 

The  king  rose  usually  at  six  in  the  morning ;  he  shaved 
himself,  and  I  arranged  his  hair  and  dressed  him.  He  went 
at  once  into  his  reading-room.  That  room  being  very  small 
the  municipal  guarding  the  king  sat  in  the  bedroom,  the  door 
being  half-open  in  order  that  he  might  not  lose  sight  of 
the  person  of  the  king.  His  Majesty  prayed  on  his  knees 
for  five  or  six  minutes,  and  then  read  till  nine  o'clock.  Dur- 
ing that  time,  and  after  having  done  his  room  and  prepared 
the  table  for  breakfast,  I  went  down  to  the  queen.  She 
never  opened  her  door  until  I  came,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
municipal  from  entering  her  bedroom.  I  then  dressed  the 
young  prince  and  arranged  the  queen's  hair ;  after  which  I 
went  to  perform  the  same  service  to  ISIadame  Elisabeth  and 
Madame  Royale.  This  moment  of  their  toilet  was  one  of 
those  in  which  I  could  tell  the  queen  and  the  princess  what 
I  heard  and  what  I  knew.  A  sign  told  them  I  had  some- 
thing to  say,  and  one  of  them  would  then  talk  to  the  muni- 
cipal officer  to  distract  his  attention. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  queen,  her  children  and  Madame 
iSlisabeth  went  up  to  the  king's  room  to  breakfast ;  after 
having  served  them  I  did  the  bedrooms  of  the  queen  and  the 
princesses ;  Tison  and  his  wife  helped  me  only  in  that  sort 
of  work.  It  was  not  for  service  only  that  they  had  been 
placed  where  they  were ;  a  more  important  role  was  confided 
to  them,  namely :  to  observe  all  that  might  escape  the  vigi- 
lance of  the  municipals,  and  also  to  denounce  the  municipals 
themselves.  Crimes  to  be  committed  no  doubt  entered  the 
plan  of  those  who  selected  them,  for  the  Tison  woman,  who 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  127 

seemed  then  of  a  rather  gentle  nature  and  who  trembled 
before  her  husband,  afterwards  revealed  herself  by  an  infa- 
mous denunciation  of  the  queen,  which  was  followed  by  a  fit 
of  insanity.  Tison  himself,  formerly  a  clerk  in  the  customs, 
was  an  old  man,  hard  and  malignant  by  nature,  incapable  of 
an  emotion  of  pity,  and  destitute  of  all  feelings  of  humanity. 
Beside  those  who  were  the  virtuous  of  the  earth  the  con- 
spirators had  chosen  to  place  those  that  were  vilest. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  king  came  down  with  his  family  into 
the  queen's  room  and  passed  the  day  there.  He  occupied 
himself  with  the  education  of  his  son,  made  him  recite  pas- 
sages from  Corneille  and  Eacine,  gave  him  lessons  in  geog- 
raphy, and  taught  him  to  colour  maps.  The  precocious 
intelligence  of  the  young  prince  responded  perfectly  to  the 
tender  care  of  the  king.  His  memory  was  so  good  that  on 
a  map  covered  with  a  sheet  of  paper  he  could  point  out  the 
departments,  districts,  towns,  and  the  course  of  the  rivers ;  it 
was  the  new  geography  of  France  that  the  king  was  teaching 
him.  The  queen,  on  her  side,  was  occupied  with  the  educa- 
tion of  her  daughter,  and  these  different  lessons  lasted  till 
eleven  o'clock.  The  rest  of  the  morning  she  spent  in 
sewing,  knitting,  and  doing  tapestry.  At  midday  the  three 
princesses  went  into  Madame  Elisabeth's  room  to  change 
their  morning  gowns ;  no  municipal  went  with  them. 

At  one  o'clock,  if  the  weather  was  fine,  the  royal  family 
were  taken  down  into  the  garden ;  four  municipal  officers 
and  a  captain  of  the  National  Guard  accompanied  them.  As 
there  were  quantities  of  workmen  about  the  Temple,  employed 
in  pulling  down  houses  and  building  new  walls,  the  royal 
family  were  allowed  to  walk  only  in  the  horse-chestnut 
alley.  I  was  permitted  to  share  these  walks,  during  which 
I  made  the  young  prince  play  either  at  quoits,  or  football,  or 
running,  or  other  games  of  exercise. 


128  MADAMK    ]f:LlSABKTII    I)E   FKANCE.  [cnxi-.  i. 

At  two  o'clock  they  returned  to  the  Tower,  where  I  served 
the  dinner ;  and  every  day  at  the  same  hour  Santerre,  a 
brewer,  general-commanding  the  National  Guard  of  Paris, 
cAme  to  the  Temple,  accompanied  by  two  aides-de-camp. 
He  searched  the  different  rooms.  Sometimes  the  king  spoke 
to  him  ;  the  queen  never.  After  the  meal,  the  royal  family 
returned  to  the  queen's  room  where  Their  Majesties  usually 
played  games  at  piquet  or  backgammon.  It  was  during  that 
time  that  I  dined. 

At  four  o'clock  the  king  took  a  short  rest ;  the  princesses 
sat  by  him,  each  with  a  book  in  her  hand ;  the  deepest  si- 
lence reigned  during  that  nap.  What  a  spectacle !  a  king 
pursued  by  hatred  and  calumny,  fallen  from  a  throne  to  a 
prison,  yet  sustained  by  his  conscience  and  sleeping  peace- 
fully the  sleep  of  the  just !  his  wife,  his  sister,  his  children 
contemplating  with  respect  those  august  features,  the  serenity 
of  which  seemed  increased  by  troubles,  so  that  even  then 
there  could  be  read  upon  them  the  peace  he  enjoys  to-day ! 
No,  that  sight  will  never  be  effaced  from  my  memory. 

When  the  king  awoke,  conversation  was  resumed.  He 
made  me  sit  beside  him.  I  gave,  under  his  eyes,  writing- 
lessons  to  the  yoimg  prince ;  and  I  copied  out,  under  his 
selection,  passages  from  the  works  of  Montesquieu  and  other 
celebrated  authors.  After  this  lesson,  I  took  the  little  prince 
into  Madame  Elisabeth's  chamber,  where  I  made  him  play 
ball  or  battledore  and  shuttlecock. 

At  the  close  of  the  day  the  royal  family  sat  round  a  table ; 
the  queen  read  aloud  books  of  history  or  other  well-chosen 
works  suitable  to  instruct  and  amuse  her  children ;  some- 
times unexpected  scenes  corresponding  to  her  own  situation 
occurred  and  gave  rise  to  painful  thoughts.  Madame  Elisa- 
beth read  also  in  turn,  and  the  reading  lasted  till  eight 
o'clock.     I  then  served  the  supper  of  the  young  prince  in 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  129 

Madame  Elisabeth's  bedroom ;  the  royal  family  were  present ; 
the  king  took  pleasure  in  amusing  his  children  by  making 
them  guess  the  answers  to  conundrums  taken  from  a  file 
of  the  "  Mercure  de  France "  which  he  had  found  in  the 
library. 

After  the  dauphin's  supper,  I  undressed  him ;  it  was  the 
queen  who  heard  him  say  his  prayers ;  he  said  one  especially 
for  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe ;  and  by  another  he  asked 
God  to  protect  the  life  of  Mme.  de  Tourzel,  his  governess. 
If  the  municipals  were  very  near,  the  little  prince  himself 
took  the  precaution  to  say  these  last  two  prayers  in  a  low 
voice.  I  then  made  him  go  into  the  cabinet,  and  if  I  had 
anything  to  tell  the  queen,  I  seized  that  moment.  I  told  her 
what  the  newspapers  contained,  for  none  were  allowed  to 
enter  the  Tower;  but  a  street-crier,  sent  expressly,  came 
every  evening  at  seven  o'clock  and  stood  near  the  wall  on 
the  rotunda  side  within  the  Temple  inclosure,  where  he 
cried,  with  several  pauses,  a  summary  of  what  was  taking 
place  in  the  National  Assembly,  the  commune,  and  the  armies. 
I  stationed  myself  in  the  king's  cabinet  to  listen ;  and  there, 
in  the  silence,  it  was  easy  to  remember  what  I  heard. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  king  supped.  The  queen  and  Ma- 
dame Elisabeth  took  turns  to  remain  with  the  dauphin 
during  this  meal ;  I  carried  to  them  what  they  desired  for 
supper ;  that  was  another  opportunity  to  speak  to  them  with- 
out witnesses. 

After  supper  the  king  went  up  for  a  moment  into  the 
queen's  room,  gave  her  his  hand  in  sign  of  adieu,  also  to  his 
sister,  and  kissed  his  children ;  then  he  went  to  his  own 
room,  retii-ed  into  his  cabinet  and  read  there  till  midnight. 
The  queen  and  the  princesses  closed  the  doors  of  their  rooms ; 
one  of  the  municipals  remained  all  night  in  the  little  room 
between  their  two  chambers ;  the  other  followed  the  king. 


loO  MADAME   AlISABETII   DE   FRANCE.  [chap.  i. 

I  then  placed  my  bed  beside  that  of  the  king;  but  His 
Majesty  waited,  before  going  to  bed,  till  the  municipals  were 
changed  and  the  new  one  came  up,  in  order  to  know  which 
one  it  was,  and  if  he  was  one  the  king  did  not  know,  he 
always  told  me  to  ask  his  name.  The  municipals  were  re- 
lieved at  eleven  in  the  morning,  at  five  in  the  afternoon,  and 
at  midnight.  The  above  manner  of  life  lasted  the  whole 
time  tliat  the  king  was  in  the  little  tower,  that  is  to  say, 
until  September  30. 

I  now  resume  the  course  of  events.  September  4th 
Potion's  secretary  came  to  the  Tower  to  remit  to  the  king 
a  sum  of  two  thousand  francs  in  assignats ;  he  exacted  from 
the  king  a  receipt.  His  Majesty  requested  him  to  pay  M. 
Hue  five  hundred  and  twenty-six  francs,  which  he  had 
advanced  in  his  service ;  the  secretary  promised  that  he 
would.  That  sum  of  two  thousand  francs  was  all  that  was 
ever  paid,  although  the  Legislative  Assembly  voted  five  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  for  the  expenses  of  the  king  in  the 
Tower  of  the  Temple ;  but  this  was  before  it  perceived  the 
real  intentions  of  its  leaders,  or  dared  to  share  them. 

Two  days  later,  Madame  Elisabeth  made  me  collect  a 
number  of  little  articles  belonging  to  the  Princesse  de  Lam- 
balle  which  she  had  left  in  the  Tower  when  suddenly  taken 
away  from  it.  I  made  a  package  and  addressed  it,  with  a 
letter,  to  the  princess's  waiting-woman.  I  heard  later  that 
neither  package  nor  letter  reached  her. 

At  this  period,  the  character  of  most  of  the  municipals 
chosen  to  come  to  the  Temple  shows  what  manner  of  men 
had  been  used  by  the  leaders  for  the  revolution  of  August 
10,  and  for  the  massacres  of  the  2d  of  September. 

A  municipal  named  James,  a  teacher  of  the  English 
language,  chose,  one  day,  to  follow  the  king  into  his  little 
reading-room,  and  sit  beside  him.     The  king  told  him  in  a 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   LOUIS   XVI.  131 

mild  way  that  his  colleagues  always  left  him  alone  there ; 
that,  the  door  remaining  open,  he  could  not  escape  his  sight, 
and  that  the  room  was  so  small  two  persons  could  not  re- 
main in  it.  James  insisted  in  a  harsh  and  vulgar  way,  and 
the  king  was  forced  to  yield ;  he  gave  up  his  reading  for 
that  day,  and  returned  to  his  chamber,  where  the  same 
municipal  continued  to  torment  him  with  the  same  tyran- 
nical surveillance. 

One  day,  when  the  king  rose,  he  mistook  the  municipal 
on  guard  for  the  one  of  the  night  before,  and  he  said  with 
interest  that  he  was  sorry  they  had  forgotten  to  relieve 
him;  the  municipal  answered  this  impulse  of  kind  feeling 
on  the  part  of  the  king  with  insults.  "  I  come  here,"  he 
said,  "  to  keep  watch  on  your  conduct,  and  not  for  you  to 
take  notice  of  mine."  Then,  coming  close  up  to  the  king, 
his  hat  on  his  head,  he  added :  "  No  one,  and  you  less  than 
any  one,  has  the  right  to  meddle  with  me."  He  was  inso- 
lent for  the  rest  of  the  day.  I  heard  afterwards  that  his 
name  was  Meunier. 

Another  commissioner,  named  Le  Clerc,  a  doctor  by 
profession,  was  in  the  queen's  room  while  I  was  giving  a 
writing  lesson  to  the  dauphin.  He  affected  to  interrupt 
our  work,  with  a  dissertation  on  the  republican  education 
that  ought  to  be  given  to  the  young  prince ;  he  wished  to 
have  the  most  revolutionary  works  substituted  for  the 
books  the  child  read. 

A  fourth  was  present  when  the  queen  was  reading  to 
her  children  a  volume  of  the  history  of  France,  at  the 
period  when  the  Conn^table  de  Bourbon  took  arms  against 
his  country;  he  declared  that  the  queen  wished  by  that 
example  to  inspire  her  son  with  feelings  of  vengeance 
against  France,  and  he  made  a  formal  denunciation  to  the 
Council.     I  warned  the   queen,  who,  after  that,  chose  her 


132  MADAME  Elisabeth  de  fkance.        [ciur.  i. 

subjects  in  a  way  that  prevented  any  one  from  calumniat- 
ing her  intentions. 

A  man  named  Simon,  a  shoemaker  and  a  municipal 
ofhcer,  was  one  of  six  commissioners  charged  with  the 
duty  of  inspecting  the  works  and  expenditures  of  the 
Temple;  but  he  was  the  only  one  who,  under  pretence 
of  properly  fulfilling  his  office,  never  quitted  the  Tower. 
This  man  affected  the  lowest  insolence  whenever  he  was 
in  presence  of  the  royal  family;  often  he  would  say  to  me, 
close  to  the  king,  so  that  His  Majesty  might  hear  him : 
"  Cl^ry,  ask  Capet  if  he  wants  anything,  for  I  can't  take  the 
trouble  to  come  up  a  second  time."  I  was  forced  to  answer, 
"  He  wants  nothing."  It  was  this  Simon  who,  at  a  later 
period,  was  put  in  charge  of  the  young  Louis,  and  who,  by  a 
well-calculated  barbarity,  made  that  interesting  child  so 
wretched.  There  is  reason  to  think  that  he  was  the  tool  of 
those  who  shortened  the  prince's  life. 

To  teach  the  young  prince  how  to  reckon,  I  made,  by  order 
of  the  queen,  a  multiplication-table.  A  municipal  declared 
that  she  was  showing  her  son  how  to  talk  in  cipher,  and 
they  made  her  renounce  the  lessons  in  arithmetic. 

The  same  thing  happened  in  regard  to  the  tapestry  at 
which  the  queen  and  the  princesses  worked  when  they 
were  first  imprisoned.  Several  chair-backs  being  finished, 
the  queen  directed  me  to  have  them  sent  to  the  Duchesse 
de  S^rent.  The  municipals,  from  whom  I  asked  permission, 
thought  the  designs  represented  hieroglyphics,  destined  to 
open  a  correspondence  wdth  the  outside ;  consequently  they 
obtained  a  decree  by  which  it  was  forbidden  to  allow  any 
work  done  by  the  princesses,  to  leave  the  Tower. 

Some  of  the  commissioners  never  spoke  of  the  king  and 
queen,  the  prince  and  the  princesses,  without  adding  the 
most    insulting    epithets   to   their   names.      A    municipal, 


1792]  THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS   XVI.  133 

named  Turlot,  said  one  day  before  me,  "  If  the  executioner 
does  n't  guillotine  that  s  .  .  .  family,  I  '11  do  it  myself." 

The  king  and  his  family,  when  going  to  walk,  had  to  pass 
before  a  great  many  sentinels,  some  of  whom,  even  at  this 
time,  were  posted  in  the  interior  of  the  little  tower.  They 
presented  arms  to  the  municipals  and  ofificers  of  the 
National  Guard,  who  accompanied  the  king,  but  when  the 
king  passed  them,  they  grounded  their  muskets,  or  pointedly 
reversed  them.  One  of  these  sentinels,  posted  inside  the 
tower,  wrote  one  day  on  the  door  of  the  king's  chamber: 
"  The  guillotine  is  permanent,  and  is  awaiting  the  tyrant, 
Louis  XVI."  The  king  read  the  words;  I  made  a  motion 
to  efface  them,  but  His  Majesty  opposed  it. 

One  of  the  two  porters  of  the  Tower,  named  Eocher,  a 
horrible  object,  dressed  as  a  Sapcur,  with  long  moustaches, 
a  black  fur  cap  on  his  head,  a  large  sabre  and  a  belt  from 
which  hung  a  bunch  of  big  keys,  presented  himself  at  the 
door  whenever  the  king  wished  to  go  out;  he  would 
never  open  it  till  the  king  was  close  beside  it,  and  then, 
under  pretence  of  choosing  the  right  key  from  his  enor- 
mous bunch,  which  he  rattled  with  a  frightful  noise,  he 
kept  the  royal  family  waiting,  and  drew  back  the  bolt 
with  a  crash.  Then  he  would  hurry  down  the  stairs,  and 
stand  by  the  last  door,  a  long  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  as 
each  member  of  the  royal  family  passed  him  he  would 
puff  the  smoke  in  their  faces,  especially  those  of  the  prin- 
cesses. Some  of  the  National  guards,  who  were  amused  by 
such  insolence,  would  gather  near  him,  and  laugh  loudly  at 
each  puff  of  smoke,  permitting  themselves  to  say  the 
coarsest  things ;  some,  to  enjoy  the  spectacle  more  at 
their  ease,  would  even  bring  chairs  from  the  guard-room, 
and,  sitting  down,  obstructed  the  passage,  already  very 
narrow. 


134  MADAME   1^:LISABETII   DE  FRANCE.  [chap.  i. 

During  the  promenade  of  the  family  the  artillery-men 
assembled  to  dance  and  sing  songs,  —  always  revolutionary, 
and  sometimes  obscene. 

A\'hen  the  royal  family  returned  to  the  Tower  they  were 
forced  to  endure  the  same  insults ;  often  the  walls  were 
covered  with  most  indecent  apostrophes,  written  in  such  large 
letters  that  they  could  not  escape  their  eye,  such  as :  "  Madame 
Veto  shall  dance ; "  "  We  will  put  the  fat  pig  on  diet ; " 
"  Down  with  the  Cordon  rouge  ; "  "  Strangle  the  cubs ;  "  etc, 
Once  they  drew  a  gibbet  on  which  dangled  a  figure,  and 
beneath  it  was  written :  "  Louis  taking  an  air  bath."  At 
another  time  it  was  a  guillotine  with  these  words :  "  Louis 
spitting  into  the  basket." 

Thus  the  little  walk  in  the  garden  granted  to  the  royal 
family  became  a  torture.  The  king  and  queen  might  have 
escaped  it  by  remaining  in  the  Tower,  but  their  children,  the 
objects  of  their  tenderness,  needed  the  air ;  it  was  for  them 
that  Their  Majesties  endured  daily  without  complaint  these 
innumerable  outrages. 

Nevertheless,  some  signs  of  fidelity  or  pity  came  at  times 
to  soften  the  horror  of  these  persecutions,  and  were  all  the 
more  remarked  because  so  rare. 

A  sentinel  mounted  guard  one  day  at  the  queen's  door ;  he 
belonged  to  the  faubourgs,  and  was  clean  in  his  dress,  which 
was  that  of  a  peasant.  I  was  alone  in  the  first  room  read- 
ing. He  looked  at  me  attentively  and  seemed  much  moved. 
I  rose  and  passed  before  him.  He  presented  arms  and  said 
in  a  trembling  voice,  "  You  caimot  go  out."  "  WTiy  not  ? " 
"  My  orders  are  to  keep  you  within  sight."  "  You  mistake 
me,"  I  said.  "  WTiat !  monsieur,  are  you  not  the  king  ? " 
" Then  you  do  not  know  him  ? "  "I  have  never  seen  him, 
and  I  would  like  to  see  him  away  from  here."  "  Speak 
low;"  I  said,  "1  shall  enter  that  room  and  leave  the  door 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  135 

half  open ;  look  in  and  you  will  see  the  king ;  he  is  sitting 
by  the  window  with  a  book  in  his  hand."  I  told  the  queen 
of  the  sentry's  desire,  and  the  king,  whom  she  informed,  had 
the  kindness  to  go  from  one  room  to  the  other  and  walk 
before  him.  I  then  went  back  to  the  sentry.  "  Ah  !  mon- 
sieur," he  said,  "  how  good  the  king  is !  how  he  loves  his 
children ! "  He  was  so  moved  that  he  could  hardly  speak. 
"  No,"  he  continued,  striking  his  chest,  "  I  cannot  believe  he 
has  done  us  all  that  harm."  I  feared  that  his  extreme  agita- 
tion would  compromise  him,  and  I  left  him. 

Another  sentry,  posted  at  the  end  of  the  alley  where  the 
royal  family  took  their  walk,  still  very  young  and  with  an 
interesting  face,  expressed  by  his  looks  the  desire  to  give  us 
some  information.  Madame  Elisabeth,  on  the  second  turn 
of  their  walk,  went  near  him  to  see  if  he  would  speak  to  her. 
Whether  from  fear  or  respect  he  did  not  dare  to  do  so ;  but 
tears  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  he  made  a  sign  to  indicate  that 
he  had  laid  a  paper  near  him  in  a  rubbish  heap.  I  began 
to  look  for  it,  under  pretence  of  finding  quoits  for  the 
dauphin.  But  the  municipal  officers  stopped  me,  and  for- 
bade me  to  go  near  the  sentinels  in  future.  I  have  never 
known  the  intentions  of  that  young  man. 

This  hour  for  their  walk  brought  another  kind  of  spectacle 
to  the  royal  family  which  often  rent  their  hearts.  A  num- 
ber of  faithful  subjects  daily  profited  by  that  brief  hour 
to  see  their  king  and  queen  by  placing  themselves  at  the 
windows  of  houses  which  look  into  the  garden  of  the  Temple. 
It  was  impossible  to  be  mistaken  as  to  their  sentiments  and 
their  prayers.  Once  I  was  sure  I  recognized  the  Marquise 
de  Tourzel.  I  judged  especially  by  the  extreme  attention 
with  which  she  watched  the  movements  of  the  little  prince 
when  he  left  his  parents'  side.  I  said  this  to  Madame  T5lisa- 
beth,  who  believed  her  a  victim  of  September  2d.     The  tears 


13 1)  MADAME  Elisabeth  de  France.        [cn>p.  i. 

came  into  her  eyes  on  hearing  the  name.  "  Oh  ! "  she  said, 
"  can  she  be  living  still ! " 

The  next  day  I  found  means  to  get  information.  The 
^lartjuise  de  Tourzel  was  living  on  one  of  her  estates.  I 
also  learned  that  the  Princesse  de  Tarente  and  the  Marquise 
de  la  Roche- Ay mon,  who  were  at  the  Tuileries  on  the  10th 
of  August,  had  escaped  the  massacre.  The  safety  of  these 
persons,  whose  devotion  was  manifested  on  so  many  occa- 
sions, gave  some  moments  of  consolation  to  the  royal  family ; 
but  they  heard  soon  after  the  awful  news  that  the  prisoners 
of  the  upper  court  of  Orleans  had  all  been  massacred  at  Ver- 
sailles on  the  9  th. 

September  29,  at  nine  in  the  evening,  a  man  named  Lubin, 
a  municipal,  arrived,  surrounded  by  gendarmes  on  horseback 
and  a  numerous  populace,  to  make  a  proclamation  in  front  of 
the  Tower.  The  trumpets  somided,  and  great  silence  suc- 
ceeded. Lubin  had  the  voice  of  Stentor.  The  royal  family 
could  hear  distinctly  the  proclamation  of  the  abolition  of 
royalty,  and  the  establishment  of  a  republic.  Hubert,  so 
well-known  under  the  name  of  P^re  Duchesne,  and  Des- 
tournelles,  afterwards  minister  of  public  taxation,  happened 
to  be  on  guard  that  day  over  the  royal  family  ;  they  were 
seated  at  the  moment  near  the  door,  and  they  stared  at  the 
king,  smiling  treacherously.  The  king  noticed  them ;  he  had 
a  book  in  his  hand  and  continued  to  read ;  no  change  ap- 
peared upon  his  face.  The  queen  showed  equal  firmness ; 
not  a  word,  not  a  motion  that  could  add  to  the  enjoyment 
of  those  two  men.  The  proclamation  ended,  the  trumpets 
sounded  again.  I  went  to  the  window;  instantly  all  eyes 
turned  to  me ;  they  took  me  for  Louis  XVI. ;  I  was  loaded 
with  insults.  The  gendarmes  made  threatening  motions 
towards  me  with  their  sabres,  and  I  was  obliged  to  retire  in 
order  to  stop  the  tumult. 


1792]  THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  137 

The  same  evening  I  informed  the  king  that  his  son  had 
need  of  curtains  and  covering  for  his  bed,  as  the  cold  was 
beginning  to  be  felt.  The  king  told  me  to  write  the  request 
and  he  would  sign  it.  I  used  the  same  expressions  I  had 
hitherto  employed:  "The  king  requests  for  his  son,  etc." 
"  You  are  very  daring,"  said  Destournelles,  "  to  use  a  title 
abolished  by  the  wdl  of  the  people,  as  you  have  just  heard." 
I  replied  that  I  had  heard  a  proclamation,  but  I  did  not 
know  its  object.  "  It  is,"  he  said,  "  the  abolition  of  royalty, 
and  you  can  tell  monsieur  (pointing  to  the  king)  to  cease  to 
take  a  title  the  people  no  longer  recognize."  "  I  cannot," 
I  said  to  him,  "  change  this  note,  because  it  is  already 
signed;  the  king  would  ask  me  the  reason,  and  it  is  not 
for  me  to  tell  it  to  him."  "  You  can  do  as  you  choose,"  he  re- 
plied, "  but  I  shall  not  certify  your  request."  The  next  day 
Madame  Elisabeth  ordered  me  to  write  in  future  for  such 
purposes  as  follows :  "  It  is  necessary  for  the  service  of 
Louis  XVI.  —  or  Marie-Antoinette  —  or  Louis-Charles  —  or 
Marie-Thdrfese  —  or  Marie-filisabeth." 

Up  to  that  time  I  had  been  forced  to  repeat  these  requests 
often.  The  small  amount  of  linen  the  king  and  queen  had 
was  lent  to  them  by  persons  of  the  Court  during  the  time 
they  were  at  the  Feuillants.  They  could  get  none  from  the 
chateau  of  the  Tuileries,  where,  on  the  10th  of  August,  every- 
thing had  been  pillaged.  The  royal  family  lacked  clothing 
of  every  kind,  and  the  princesses  mended  what  they  had 
daily.  Often  Madame  Elisabeth  was  obliged  to  wait  until 
the  king  went  to  bed,  in  order  to  darn  his  clothes.  I  ob- 
tained at  last,  after  many  requests,  that  a  small  amount 
of  new  linen  should  be  made  for  tliem.  Unfortunately,  the 
work-people  marked  it  with  crowned  letters,  and  the  muni- 
cipals insisted  that  the  princesses  should  pick  out  the 
crowns ;  they  were  forced  to  obey. 


13S  MADAME   iiLISABKTU   DE   FRANCE.  tcuAP.  ii. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Continuation  of  tlioir  Life  and  Treatment.    The  King  separated  from  his 
Family,  and  summoned  for  Trial  before  the  Convention. 

On  the  26Lh  of  September,  I  learned  from  a  municipal  that 
it  was  proposed  to  separate  the  king  from  his  family,  that  an 
apartment  was  being  prepared  for  him  in  the  great  Tower, 
and  that  it  was  then  nearly  ready.  It  was  not  without  pre- 
caution that  I  announced  to  the  king  this  new  tyranny ;  I 
showed  him  how  much  it  cost  me  to  distress  him.  "  You 
could  not  give  me  a  greater  proof  of  attachment,"  said  His 
Majesty.  "  I  exact  of  your  zeal  that  you  will  hide  nothing 
from  me  ;  I  expect  everything ;  try  to  learn  the  day  of  this 
cruel  separation  and  inform  me  of  it." 

On  the  29  th  of  September,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
five  or  six  municipals  entered  the  queen's  room  where  the 
royal  family  was  assembled.  One  of  them,  named  Char- 
bonnier,  read  to  the  king  a  decree  of  the  council  of  the 
Commune  which  ordered  "  the  removal  of  paper,  pens,  ink, 
pencils,  and  written  papers,  whether  on  the  persons  of  the 
prisoners  or  in  their  rooms ;  also  from  the  valet  de  chamhre, 
and  all  other  persons  on  service  in  the  Tower."  Charbonnier 
added :  "  If  you  have  need  of  anything,  Clery  will  come 
down  and  write  your  requests  on  a  register  which  will  be 
kept  in  the  council-chamber." 

The  king  and  his  family,  without  making  the  slightest 
observation,  searched  their  persons  and  gave  up  their  papers, 
pencils,  pocket-cases,  etc.  The  commissioners  then  searched 
the  rooms,  the  closets,  and  carried  off  the  articles  designated 


x^ctne^^^^c^te^e'f'yG^^'^n^  <^^e^?9^^/ey 


1792]  THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  13d 

in  the  decree.  I  learned  then,  from  a  member  of  the  depu- 
tation, that  the  king  was  to  be  transferred  that  very  evening 
to  the  great  Tower.  I  found  means  to  inform  the  king  by- 
means  of  Madame  Elisabeth. 

True  enough,  after  supper,  as  the  king  was  leaving  the 
queen's  room  to  go  up  to  his  own,  a  municipal  told  him  to 
wait,  as  the  council  had  something  to  communicate  to  him. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  the  six  municipals  who,  in  the 
morning,  had  carried  away  the  papers,  etc.,  entered,  and  read 
to  the  king  a  second  decree  of  the  Commune,  which  ordered 
his  removal  to  the  great  Tower.  Though  already  informed 
of  that  event,  the  king  was  greatly  affected  on  being  notified 
of  it ;  his  distressed  family  tried  to  read  in  the  eyes  of  the 
commissioners  to  what  length  their  projects  went.  The 
king,  in  bidding  them  adieu,  left  them  in  the  utmost  alarm 
and  uncertainty,  and  this  separation,  forecasting  as  it  did  so 
many  other  misfortunes,  was  one  of  the  most  cruel  moments 
Their  Majesties  had  yet  passed  in  the  Temple.  I  followed 
the  king  to  his  new  prison. 

The  apartment  of  the  king  in  the  great  Tower  was  not 
ready ;  there  was  only  one  bed  and  no  other  furniture  in  it. 
The  painters  and  paperers  were  still  at  work,  which  caused 
so  intolerable  a  smeU  that  I  feared  His  Majesty  would  be 
made  ill  by  it.  They  intended  to  give  me  a  room  very  far 
from  that  of  the  king,  but  I  insisted  vehemently  on  being 
nearer  to  him.  I  passed  the  first  night  in  a  chair  beside  His 
Majesty ;  the  next  day  the  king,  with  great  difficulty,  ob- 
tained for  me  a  room  adjoining  his  own. 

After  His  Majesty  had  risen,  I  wished  to  go  into  the  small 
tower  to  dress  the  young  prince.  The  municipals  refused. 
One  of  them,  named  V^ron,  said :  "  You  are  to  have  no  com- 
munication in  future  with  the  other  prisoners,  nor  your  mas- 
ter either ;  he  is  never  to  see  his  children  again." 

10  Mem.  Vor.  9 


140  MADAM  !•:    ^:LISABET1I    1)K   FUANCK.  [c.iAr.  II. 

At  nine  (»Vlook  the  king  asked  to  be  taken  to  lils  family. 
"  Wo  have  no  orders  for  that,"  rrplii'd  the  (.•oniini.ssioners. 
His  Majesty  made  a  few  observations,  to  which  they  did 
not  reply. 

Half  an  hour  later,  two  munioijials  entered,  followed  by  a 
serving-man  who  brought  the  king  a  i)iece  of  bread  and  a 
lx)ttle  of  lemonade  iov  his  breakfast.  The  king  expressed 
his  desire  to  dine  with  his  family ;  they  replied  that  they 
would  inquire  the  orders  of  the  Commune.  "  But,"  said  the 
king,  "my  valet  de  chambre  can  surely  go  down;  he  has 
the  care  of  my  son,  and  nothing  prevents  him  from  continu- 
ing that  ser\dce."  "  That  does  not  depend  on  us,"  said  the 
commissioners,  and  they  retired. 

I  was  then  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  overcome  with  distress 
and  tilled  wiih  heart-rending  fears  for  that  august  family. 
On  one  side,  I  saw  the  suffering  of  my  master ;  on  the  other, 
I  thought  of  the  young  prince,  abandoned  perhaps  to  strange 
hands.  The  municipals  had  already  talked  of  separating  him 
from  his  parents,  and  what  fresh  suffering  that  would  cause 
to  the  queen ! 

I  was  full  of  these  distressing  ideas  when  the  king  came 
to  me  holding  in  his  hand  the  bread  they  had  brought  him ; 
he  offered  me  half,  saying :  "  They  seem  to  have  forgotten 
your  breakfast;  take  this,  the  rest  is  enough  for  me."  I 
refused,  he  insisted.  I  could  not  restrain  my  tears;  the 
knig  saw  them,  and  his  own  flowed. 

At  ten  o'clock  other  municipals  brought  the  workmen  to 
continue  their  work  in  the  apartment.  One  of  them  said  to 
the  king  that  he  had  just  been  present  at  the  breakfast  of  his 
famUy,  and  they  were  all  in  good  health.  "  I  thank  you," 
said  the  king,  "  and  I  beg  you  to  give  them  news  of  me ;  tell 
them  ihat  I  am  well.  Can  I  not,"  he  continued,  "have  a 
few  books  which  I  left  in  the  queen's  room  ?     You  would  do 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVI.  141 

me  a  great  pleasure  if  you  would  send  them  to  me,  for  I  have 
nothing  to  read  here."  His  Majesty  named  the  books  he 
wanted.  The  municipal  consented  to  the  king's  request ; 
but,  not  knowing  how  to  read,  he  proposed  that  I  should 
go  with  him  to  get  the  books.  I  congratulated  myself  on 
the  man's  ignorance,  and  I  blessed  Providence  for  giving 
us  that  moment  of  consolation.  The  king  charged  me  with 
certain  orders,  his  eyes  told  me  the  rest. 

I  found  the  queen  in  her  room,  with  her  children  and 
Madame  Elisabeth.  They  were  weeping,  and  their  grief 
increased  on  seeing  me.  They  asked  a  thousand  questions 
about  the  king,  to  which  I  could  only  answer  with  reserve. 
The  queen,  addressing  the  municipals  who  accompanied  me, 
eagerly  urged  her  request  to  be  with  the  king  at  least  a  few 
moments  a  day,  and  during  meals.  No  longer  complaints 
and  tears,  it  was  cries  and  sobs  of  grief.  "  Well,  they  shall 
dine  together  to-day  at  least,"  said  a  municipal  officer,  "  but 
as  our  conduct  is  subordinate  to  the  decrees  of  the  Commune 
we  must  do  to-morrow  what  they  prescribe."  His  colleagues 
consented. 

At  the  mere  idea  of  being  again  with  the  king,  a  senti- 
ment that  was  almost  joy  came  to  soothe  the  afilicted  family. 
The  queen  holding  her  children  in  her  arms,  and  Madame 
Elisabeth,  raising  her  eyes  to  heaven  and  thankmg  God 
for  the  unexpected  mercy,  presented  a  very  touching  sight. 
Some  of  the  municipals  could  not  restrain  their  tears  (the 
only  ones  I  ever  saw  them  shed  in  that  dreadful  place). 
One  of  them,  the  shoemaker  Simon,  said  aloud :  "  I  believe 
those  b  ...  of  women  will  make  me  cry."  Then  turning  to 
the  queen  he  added  :  "  When  you  murdered  the  people  on  the 
10th  of  August  you  did  not  cry."  — "  The  people  are  greatly 
deceived  about  our  sentiments,"  answered  the  queen. 

I  then  took  the  books  the  king  asked  for  and  carried  them 


\  ri  MAPAMK    f;i,ISAIU;TH    DR   FKANCI-:.  [<  lur.  ii. 

to  him;  tlir  luuuicipalswent  willi  nic  ti>  iiifnini  Ilis  Majesty 
that  ho  inii^ht  sec  his  family.  I  saiil  (<•  tlii'se  commissictners 
that  I  supitDsed  I  couhl  without  lioultt  contiiuie  to  serve  tlie 
young  prince  and  [\\o  princesses  ;  they  consented.  T  thus 
had  an  opi>oi-tunity  to  inform  (lie  <nu't'n  of  what  liad  taken 
j»h\ce,  also  of  liow  much  the  kiu^'  had  sullcrcd  in  being 
]'arted  from  her.  They  si'rvcd  the  dinner  in  tlie  king's 
room  wlicre  his  family  joined  liini;  nothing  more  was  said 
about  the  decree  of  the  Commune,  and  the  royal  family  con- 
tinued to  meet  at  their  meals,  and  also  when  walking  in  the 
garden. 

After  dinner  they  showed  the  queen  the  apartment  that 
was  being  prepared  for  her  in  the  great  Tower,  above  that  of 
the  king.  She  begged  the  workmen  to  finish  it  quickly,  but  it 
was  three  weeks  before  it  was  ready. 

During  that  interval  I  continued  my  services  towards 
Their  Majesties  as  well  as  towards  the  young  prince  and  the 
princesses.  Their  occupations  remained  the  same.  The  care 
the  king  gave  to  the  education  of  his  son  was  not  inter- 
rupted ;  but  this  abode  of  the  royal  family  in  two  separate 
towers  made  the  watchfulness  of  the  municipals  more  diffi- 
cult and  rendered  them  very  uneasy.  The  number  of  com- 
missioners was  increased,  and  their  distrust  left  me  but  little 
means  to  gain  information  of  what  was  passing  outside. 
Here  are  tlie  ways  I  made  use  of:  — 

Under  pretext  of  getting  my  linen  and  other  necessaries 
brought  to  me,  I  obtained  permission  for  my  wife  to  come 
once  a  week  to  the  Temple.  She  was  always  accompanied 
by  a  lady,  a  friend  of  hers,  who  passed  for  one  of  her  rela- 
tives. No  one  proved  more  attachment  to  the  royal  family 
than  this  lady,  by  the  steps  she  took  and  the  risks  she  ran 
on  various  occasions.  On  their  arrival,  they  were  taken  into 
the  council  chamber,  but  I  could  only  speak  to  them  in  pres- 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   LOUIS   XVI.  143 

ence  of  the  municipals.  We  were  closely  watched,  and  the 
first  visits  brought  no  results ;  but  I  managed  to  make  them 
understand  that  they  must  come  at  one  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, the  hour  of  the  king's  walk,  during  which  time  most 
of  the  municipals  followed  the  royal  family ;  only  one  was 
left  in  the  council  chamber,  and  if  he  was  a  kindly  man  he 
gave  us  some  liberty,  without,  however,  losing  us  from  sight. 

Getting  thus  a  chance  to  speak  without  being  overheard,  I 
obtained  from  them  news  of  the  persons  in  whom  the  royal 
family  took  interest,  and  I  heard  of  what  was  going  on  in 
the  Convention,  It  was  my  wife  who  engaged  the  crier 
whom  I  have  already  mentioned  as  coming  every  day  near 
the  walls  of  the  Temple  and  crying  the  items  in  the  news- 
papers several  times  at  intervals. 

To  this  information  I  added  what  I  could  pick  up  from 
some  of  the  municipals,  but  especially  from  a  faithful 
man  named  Turgy,  serving  in  the  king's  kitchen,  who,  out 
of  devotion  to  His  Majesty,  had  contrived  to  get  him- 
self employed  in  the  Temple  with  two  of  his  comrades, 
Marchand  and  Chr(5tien.  They  brought  to  the  Tower  the 
meals  of  the  royal  family,  prepared  in  the  kitchen  of  the 
palace  of  the  Temple ;  they  were  also  in  charge  of  the  busi- 
ness of  provisioning,  and  Turgy,  who  was  thus  able  to  leave 
the  precincts  of  the  Temple  two  or  three  times  a  week, 
obtained  information  of  what  was  happening.  The  difficulty 
was  to  convey  that  information  to  me.  He  was  forbidden 
to  speak  to  me  except  about  the  service  of  the  table,  and 
always  in  presence  of  the  municipals.  When  he  wanted  to 
tell  me  something,  he  made  a  sign  we  had  agreed  upon,  and 
I  made  different  pretexts  to  approach  him.  Sometimes  I 
asked  him  to  do  my  hair;  then  Madame  Elisabeth,  who 
knew  of  my  relations  with  Turgy,  would  speak  to  the  munici- 
pals, and  so  give  me  time  to  exchange  a  few  words  unob- 


144  MAnAMK    /<:LISABKT1I    DK    FKANCE.  [liiAP.  II. 

served;  at  other  times  I  wduld  make  occasions  for  him  to 
euter  my  chamber,  and  he  seized  the  moment  tt)  put  news- 
}v\iH?rs  and  other  printed  documents  into  my  beil. 

When  tlie  king  or  cpieen  desired  some  particular  informa- 
tion from  the  outside,  and  the  ilay  of  my  wife's  visit  was  far 
ofT,  I  employed  Turgy.  If  it  was  not  his  day  for  going  out 
I  would  pretend  to  be  in  need  of  something  for  the  royal 
family.  "  It  must  be  for  anotlier  day,"  lie  would  answer. 
"  Very  good,"  I  then  said,  with  an  indifferent  air,  "  the  king 
can  wait."  By  speaking  thus  I  expected  to  induce  the  mu- 
nicipals to  give  him  an  order  to  go  out.  Often  they  did 
give  it  and  he  brought  me  the  details  the  king  wanted  that 
night  or  the  next  mt)rning.  "We  had  agreed  together  as 
to  this  system  of  communicating,  but  we  had  to  be  careful 
not  to  employ  the  same  means  twice  before  the  same 
commissioners. 

Other  obstacles  were  in  the  way  of  my  informing  the 
king  of  what  I  had  learned.  I  could  only  speak  to  His 
Majesty  in  the  evening  at  the  moment  when  they  changed 
the  guard  and  as  he  went  to  bed.  Sometimes  I  could  say  a 
word  to  him  in  the  mornings  when  his  watchers  were  not  yet 
in  a  state  to  appear.  I  afifected  to  wait  until  they  were,  let- 
ting them  see,  however,  that  the  king  was  waiting  for  me. 
If  they  let  me  enter,  I  immediately  opened  the  curtains  of 
the  king's  bed,  and  while  I  put  on  his  shoes  and  stockings  I 
was  able  to  speak  to  him  without  being  heard.  More  often, 
however,  my  hopes  miscarried,  and  the  municipals  made  me 
wait  for  the  end  of  their  own  toilet  before  they  would  let  me 
attend  to  that  of  his  Majesty.  Several  among  them  treated 
me  roughly ;  some  ordered  me  in  the  morning  to  take  away 
their  flock-beds  and  obliged  me  to  replace  them  in  the  even- 
ing ;  others  constantly  made  insulting  remarks  to  me ;  but 
such  conduct  gave  me  additional  means  of  being  useful  to 


1792]  THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  145 

Their  Majesties ;  by  showing  only  gentleness  and  compliance 
to  the  commissioners,  I  ended  by  getting  their  good-will 
almost  in  spite  of  themselves ;  I  inspired  them  with  confi- 
dence without  their  being  aware  of  it ;  and  I  thus  succeeded 
in  learning  from  themselves  what  I  wanted  to  know. 

Such  was  the  plan  that  I  was  following  with  great  care 
ever  since  my  entrance  to  the  Temple,  when  a  singular  and 
unexpected  event  made  me  fear  I  should  be  separated  for- 
ever from  the  royal  family. 

One  evening,  towards  six  o'clock,  —  it  was  on  the  6th  of 
October,  —  after  having  accompanied  the  queen  to  her  apart- 
ment, I  was  going  back  to  the  king  with  the  two  municipal 
officers,  when  a  sentinel  placed  at  the  door  of  the  large  guard- 
room stopping  me  by  the  arm  and  calling  me  by  name,  asked 
how  I  was  and  said,  with  an  air  of  mystery,  that  he  had  some- 
thing he  wished  to  speak  about.  "  Monsieur,"  I  answered, 
"  speak  out  loud ;  I  am  not  permitted  to  whisper  with  any 
one."  "  I  am  told,"  said  the  man,  "  that  the  king  has  been 
put  in  a  dungeon  for  the  last  few  days,  and  that  you  are 
with  him."  "  You  see  it  is  not  so,"  I  replied,  leaving  him. 
One  of  the  municipals  was  walking  before  me,  the  other 
followed  me  J  the  first  stopped  and  listened  to  what  was 
said. 

The  next  morning  two  commissioners  waited  for  me  at 
the  door  of  the  queen's  room.  They  took  me  to  the  council- 
chamber,  and  the  municipals  who  were  there  assembled, 
questioned  me.  I  reported  the  conversation  with  the  senti- 
nel just  as  it  had  taken  place ;  the  municipal  who  had  lis- 
tened to  it  confirmed  my  account ;  the  other  maintained 
that  the  sentinel  had  given  me  a  paper,  that  it  was  a  letter 
to  the  king  and  he  had  heard  it  rustle.  I  denied  the  fact, 
and  invited  the  municipals  to  search  me  and  make  other 
inquiries.     They  drew  up  a  proces-verbal  of  my  examination, 


Mr>  MADAM  i;    feLlSABl.TH    I>K    KKANCK.  Iciur.  ii. 

and  1  wa^  confrontod  with  the  sentinel,  who  was  sentenced 
to  twonty-foar  hours  imj>risonnH'nt. 

1  thought  the  atl'air  ended  when,  t)n  the  26th  of  October, 
while  the  royal  family  were  dining,  a  municipal  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  six  gendarmes,  sabre  in  hand,  a  clerk,  and  a  sherilT, 
IxHh  in  uniform.  1  was  in  terror,  thinking  they  had  come  to 
seize  the  king.  The  royal  family  rose  ;  the  king  asked  what 
was  wanted  of  him  ;  but  the  municipal,  without  replying  to 
him,  called  me  into  the  next  room  ;  the  gendarmes  followed, 
and  the  clerk  having  read  to  me  a  warrant  of  arrest  they 
seized  me  to  take  me  before  the  Tribunal.  I  asked  permis- 
sion to  inform  the  king,  and  was  told  that  from  that  moment 
I  should  not  be  allowed  to  speak  to  him.  "  Take  nothing 
but  a  shirt,"  added  the  municipal,  "  it  will  not  be  long." 

I  believed  I  understood  him  and  took  nothing  but  my  hat. 
I  passed  beside  the  king  and  his  family  who  were  standing 
and  seemed  in  consternation  at  the  manner  in  which  I  was 
carried  off.  The  populace  collected  round  the  Temple  as- 
sailed me  with  insults  and  demanded  my  head.  An  officer 
of  the  National  Guard  said  it  was  necessary  to  preserve  my 
life  until  I  had  revealed  secrets  of  which  I  was  the  sole  de- 
positary.    The  same  vociferations  continued  the  whole  way. 

As  soon  as  I  reached  the  Palais-de-Justice  I  was  put  in 
solitary  confinement.  There  I  remained  six  hours,  vainly 
endeavouring  to  imagine  what  could  be  the  motives  for  my 
arrest.  I  could  only  remember  that  on  the  morning  of 
the  10  th  of  August,  during  the  attack  on  the  chateau  of  the 
Tuileries,  a  few  persons  who  were  caught  there  and  were  try- 
ing to  get  away,  asked  me  to  hide  in  a  bureau  that  belonged 
to  me  several  precious  articles,  and  even  papers  by  which 
they  might  be  recognized.  I  thought  that  perhaps  those 
papers  had  been  seized  and  might  be  my  ruin. 

At  eight  o'clock  I  was  taken  before  judges,  who  were  un- 


1792]  THE  CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVI.  147 

known  to  me.  This  was  a  revolutionary  tribunal,  established 
August  10,  to  make  a  selection  among  those  who  had  escaped 
the  fury  of  the  people  on  that  occassion  and  put  them  to 
death.  What  was  my  astonishment  when  I  saw  on  the 
prisoner's  bench  the  same  young  man  who  was  suspected  of 
giving  me  a  letter  three  weeks  earlier,  and  when  I  recog- 
nized in  my  accuser  the  municipal  officer  who  had  de- 
nounced me  to  the  council  of  the  Temple.  They  questioned 
me,  and  witnesses  were  heard.  The  municipal  renewed  his 
accusation ;  I  retorted  that  he  was  not  worthy  to  be  a  mag- 
istrate of  the  people,  because,  if  he  had  heard  the  rustle  of  a 
paper  and  saw  the  man  give  me  a  letter  he  ought  to  have  had 
me  searched  at  once,  instead  of  waiting  eighteen  hours  to  de- 
nounce me  to  the  council  of  the  Temple.  After  the  debate, 
the  jury  voted,  and  on  their  declaration  I  was  acquitted. 
The  president  ordered  four  of  the  municipals  present  to  take 
me  back  to  the  Temple ;  it  was  then  midnight.  I  arrived  at 
the  moment  when  the  king  was  going  to  bed,  and  I  was 
allowed  to  inform  him  of  my  return.  The  royal  family  had 
taken  the  keenest  interest  in  my  fate,  and  thought  I  was 
already  condemned. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  queen  came  to  live  in  the 
apartment  prepared  for  her  in  the  great  Tower ;  but  that  day 
so  earnestly  desired,  and  which  seemed  to  promise  TJieir 
Majesties  some  consolation,  was  marked,  on  the  part  of  the 
municipal  officers,  with  a  fresh  proof  of  animosity  against  the 
queen.  Since  her  arrival  at  the  Temple  they  saw  her  devot- 
ing her  existence  to  the  care  of  her  son  and  finding  some 
relief  to  her  troubles  in  his  affection  and  his  caresses ;  they 
now  separated  the  two  without  warning  her;  her  distress 
was  extreme.  The  young  prince  being  placed  with  his  father, 
I  had  sole  charge  of  his  service.  With  what  tenderness  the 
queen  begged  me  to  watch  incessantly  over  his  life. 


143  MAOAMi:    KLISAIvKril    nr.    KRANCE.  [niAr.  II. 

The  events  i)f  which  I  sliall  henceforth  have  to  speak  hav- 
ing hapjvneil  in  a  din'eront  li»c;ility  from  that  I  have  already 
described,  I  think  I  ought  to  make  known  the  new  habitatitni 
of  Their  Majesties. 

The  great  Tower,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  had 
four  storeys,  all  vaulted  and  supported  up  the  middle  from 
base  to  roof  by  a  huge  shaft  [what  was  called  the  little  tower 
flanked  it,  but  without  communication,  on  one  side].  The 
interior  is  about  thirty  feet  square. 

The  second  and  third  floors  allotted  to  the  king  and  queen, 
being,  like  the  other  floors,  of  one  room  each,  were  divided 
by  board  partitions  into  four  rooms.  The  ground-floor  was 
used  by  the  municipals,  the  floor  above  was  the  guardroom, 
the  next  was  that  of  the  king. 

The  first  room  of  his  floor  (divided  as  above  stated)  was 
an  antechamber  from  which  three  doors  led  into  the  other 
three  rooms.  Opposite  to  the  entrance  was  the  king's  bedroom, 
in  which  a  bed  was  now  placed  for  the  dauphin ;  my  room 
was  on  the  left,  so  was  the  dining-room,  which  was  separated 
from  the  antechamber  by  a  glass  partition.  In  the  king's  room 
was  a  chimney;  a  great  stove  in  the  antechamber  heated 
the  other  rooms.  Each  of  these  rooms  was  lighted  by  a 
window ;  but  thick  iron  bars  and  shutters  on  the  outside  pre- 
vented the  air  from  circulating  freely.  The  embrasures  of 
these  windows  were  nine  feet  deep. 

The  floors  of  the  great  tower  communicated  by  a  staircase 
placed  in  one  of  the  tuurellcs  at  the  corner  of  it.  This 
staircase  went  up  to  the  battlements,  and  wickets  were  placed 
upon  it  at  iiiter\'als,  to  the  number  of  seven.  From  this 
staircase  each  floor  was  entered  through  two  doors,  one  of 
oak,  very  thick  and  studded  with  nails,  the  other  of  iron. 
The  other  tourelle,  opening  into  the  king's  chamber,  was 
made  into  a  reading-room ;  on  the  floor  above,  it  was  turned 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY"  OF  LOUIS   XVI.  149 

into  a  privy,  and  above  that  the  firewood  was  stored  in  it 
and  during  the  day  the  flock  beds  of  the  municipals  who 
guarded  the  king  at  night  were  placed  there. 

The  four  rooms  on  the  king's  floor  had  canvas  ceilings  ; 
the  partitions  were  covered  with  paper ;  that  of  the  ante- 
chamber represented  the  interior  of  a  prison,  and  on  one  of 
the  panels  hung,  in  very  large  type,  "  The  Declaration  of  the 
Eights  of  Man  "  framed  in  a  border  of  the  three  colours.  A 
washstand,  a  small  bureau,  four  covered  chairs,  one  arm-chair, 
four  straw  chairs,  a  mirror  on  the  fireplace,  and  a  bed  of  green 
damask  composed  the  furniture ;  these  articles,  together  with 
those  used  in  the  other  chambers  were  taken  from  the  palace 
of  the  Temple.  The  king's  bed  was  the  one  used  by  the 
captain  of  the  guards  of  the  Comte  d  'Artois. 

The  Due  d'Angouleme,  in  his  capacity  of  grand-prior  of 
France,  was  proprietor  of  the  palace  of  the  Temple.  The 
Comte  d  'Artois  had  furnished  it  and  made  it  his  residence 
whenever  he  came  to  Paris.  The  Tower,  separated  from  the 
palace  by  about  two  hundred  feet  and  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  garden,  was  the  storehouse  of  the  archives  of  the 
Knights  of  Malta. 

The  queen  lodged  on  the  third  floor,  above  the  king,  the 
distribution  of  the  rooms  being  nearly  the  same  as  that  of 
the  king's  apartment.  The  bedroom  of  the  queen  and  Madame 
Eoyale  was  over  that  of  the  king  and  dauphin ;  Madame  Elisa- 
beth occupied  the  room  above  mine ;  the  municipal  sat  in  the 
antechamber  all  day  and  slept  there.  Tison  and  his  wife  lodged 
in  the  room  above  the  dining-room  of  the  king's  apartment. 

The  upper  (fourth)  floor  was  unoccupied ;  a  gallery  ran 
round  the  inside  of  the  battlements  and  was  sometimes  used 
as  a  promenade ;  but  blinds  had  been  placed  between  the  bat- 
tlements to  prevent  the  royal  family  from  seeing  and  being 
seen. 


ir.O  MAPAMK    f'-LlSAIlF/ni    DK    FKANCK.  [.iiai-.  u. 

AfUT  llu^  roui\ioii  of  'I'luMr  Majesties  in  the  great  Tower 
ihore  was  liillo  change  in  the  hours  of  meals,  readings,  walks, 
or  in  the  time  given  by  the  king  and  queen  to  the  education 
of  their  children.  After  the  king  rose,  he  read  the  ser- 
vice of  iho  Knights  of  the  Saint-Esprit,  and  as  they  had 
refused  to  allow  mass  to  be  said  m  the  Temple,  even  on  feast- 
days,  he  ordered  me  to  buy  for  him  the  breviary  that  was 
used  by  the  diocese  of  Paris.  Louis  XVI.  was  truly  religious, 
but  his  pure  and  enlightened  religion  never  caused  him  to 
neglect  his  other  duties.  Books  of  travel,  the  works  of  Mon- 
tesquieu, those  of  the  Comte  de  Buffon,  "  The  Spectacle  of 
Nature  "  by  Pluche,  Hume's  History  of  England,  the  Imitation 
of  Jesus  Christ  in  Latin,  Tasso  in  Italian,  the  drama  of  our 
different  schools,  were  his  habitual  reading  from  the  time 
he  entered  the  Temple.  He  always  gave  four  hours  a  day  to 
Latin  authors. 

Madame  Elisabeth  and  the  queen  desiring  to  have  the 
same  books  of  devotion  as  those  of  the  king,  His  Majesty 
ordered  me  to  obtain  permission  to  buy  them.  How  often 
have  I  seen  Madame  Elisabeth  on  her  knees  at  her  bedside 
praying  fervently  ! 

At  nine  o'clock  they  came  to  fetch  the  king  and  his  son  to 
breakfast  in  the  queen's  room ;  I  accompanied  them.  I  then 
did  the  hair  of  the  three  princesses,  and,  by  order  of  the 
queen,  I  showed  Madame  Eoyale  how  to  dress  hair.  Dur- 
ing this  time  the  king  played  chess  or  dominoes  with  the 
queen  or  with  ^ladame  Elisabeth. 

After  dinner  the  young  prince  and  his  sister  played  in  the 
antechamber  at  battledore  and  shuttlecock,  at  Siam,  or 
other  games.  Madame  Elisabeth  was  always  present,  sitting 
near  a  table,  with  a  book  in  her  hand.  I  remained  in  the 
room,  sometimes  reading  ;  and  I  then  sat  down,  to  obey  the 
orders  of  the  princess.     This  dispersal  of  the  royal  family 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF   LOUIS  XVI.  151 

often  made  the  municipals  very  uneasy ;  unwilling  to  leave 
the  king  and  queen  alone,  they  were  still  more  unwilling  to 
separate  from  one  another,  so  much  did  each  distrust  his 
fellow.  This  was  the  moment  that  Madame  Elisabeth 
snatched  to  ask  me  questions  or  give  me  orders.  I  listened 
to  her  and  answered  without  turning  my  eyes  from  the  book 
which  I  held  in  my  hand,  so  as  not  to  be  detected  by  the  muni- 
cipals. The  dauphin  and  Madame  Eoyale,  in  collusion  with 
their  aunt,  facilitated  these  conversations  by  their  noisy 
games,  and  often  warned  her  by  certain  signs  of  the  entrance 
of  the  municipals  into  the  room.  I  was  distrustful  above  all 
of  Tison,  suspected  by  the  Commissioners  themselves,  whom 
he  had  more  than  once  denounced ;  it  was  in  vain  that  the 
king  and  queen  treated  him  kindly ;  nothing  could  conquer 
his  natural  malignity. 

In  the  evening,  at  bed-time,  the  municipals  placed  their 
beds  in  the  antechamber  so  as  to  barricade  the  room  in  which 
His  Majesty  slept.  They  then  locked  the  door  leading  from 
my  room  into  that  of  the  king  and  took  away  the  key.  I  was 
obliged  therefore  to  pass  through  the  antechamber  whenever 
His  Majesty  called  me  during  the  night,  bear  the  ill-humour 
of  the  commissioners,  and  wait  till  one  of  them  chose  to  get 
up  and  let  me  pass. 

On  the  7th  of  October,  at  six  in  the  evening,  I  was  made 
to  go  down  to  the  council-chamber,  where  I  found  some 
twenty  of  the  municipals  assembled,  presided  over  by  Manuel, 
who,  from  being  a  prosecutor  for  the  Commune  of  Paris  had 
risen  to  be  a  member  of  the  National  Convention.  His  pres- 
ence surprised  me  and  made  me  anxious.  They  ordered  me 
to  take  from  the  king,  that  very  evening,  tlie  orders  with 
which  he  was  still  decorated,  such  as  those  of  Saint-Louis  and 
the  Golden  Fleece ;  His  Majesty  no  longer  wore  that  of  the 
Holy-Spirit,  which  had  been  suppressed  by  the  first  Assembly. 


1;"'J  MADAMK    flLlSAlIKTlI   DK    FUANCK.  [iii,vi-.  ii. 

I  roprosontod  that  T  could  not  olu\v  ;  that  it  was  not  my 
place  tt)  make  known  to  the  king  the  (Iccri'es  of  the  council. 
1  made  this  answer  in  order  to  gain  time  to  warn  His  Ma- 
jesty, anil  I  then  saw  by  the  embarrassment  of  the  municipals 
that  they  were  acting  this  time,  at  least,  without  being  autho- 
rized by  any  decree,  either  of  the  Conmiune  or  the  Conven- 
tion. The  commissioners  refused  at  first  to  go  up  to  the  king ; 
but  Manuel  induced  them  to  do  so  by  offering  to  accompany 
them.  The  knig  was  seated,  reading ;  Manuel  addressed 
him,  and  the  conversation  that  ensued  was  as  remarkable  for 
the  indecent  familiarity  of  Manuel  as  for  the  calmness  and 
moderation  of  the  king. 

"How  are  you?"  asked  Manuel;  "have  you  all  that  ift 
necessary  ?  " —  "  I  am  content  with  what  I  have,"  replied  His 
Majesty. —  "You  are  informed  no  doubt  of  the  victories  of 
our  armies,  of  the  taking  of  Spue,  and  of  Nice,  and  the  con- 
quest of  Savoie  1"  —  "I  heard  them  mentioned  a  few  days 
ago  by  one  of  those  messieurs,  who  was  reading  an  evening 
journal  "  — • "  A\Tiat !  do  not  you  see  the  newspapers  which  are 
now  so  interesting  ?  "  —  "I  receive  none."  —  "  Messieurs"  said 
Manuel,  addressing  the  municipals  "give  all  the  newspapers 
to  monsieur  (pointing  to  the  king)  ;  it  is  well  that  he  should 
be  informed  of  our  successes."  Then,  addressing  His  Ma- 
jesty again,  "  Democratic  principles  are  propagating  them- 
selves ;  you  know,  of  course,  that  the  people  have  abolished 
royalty  and  adopted  a  republican  government  ? "  —  "I  have 
heard  it  said,  and  I  hope  that  Frenchmen  will  liud  the  hap- 
piness that  I  always  wished  to  give  them."  —  "  Do  you  also 
know  that  the  National  Assembly  has  suppressed  all  orders 
of  knighthood  ?  They  ought  to  have  told  you  to  take  off 
those  decorations.  Eelegated  to  the  class,  of  other  citizens 
you  must  be  treated  in  the  same  manner  as  they.  As  for 
the  rest,  ask  for  what  is  necessary  and  they  will  hasten  to 


1792]  THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  153 

procure  it."  —  "I  thank  you,"  said  the  king,  "  I  have  need  of 
nothing ; "  and  he  resumed  his  reading.  Manuel  had  hoped 
to  discover  regrets  or  provoke  impatience ;  he  found  a  great 
resignation  and  an  unalterable  serenity. 

The  deputation  retired ;  one  of  the  municipals  told  me  to 
follow  it  to  the  council-room,  where  I  was  again  ordered  to 
remove  from  the  king  his  decorations.  Manuel  added : 
"  You  wUl  do  well  to  send  to  the  Convention  the  crosses  and 
ribbons.  I  ought  to  warn  you,"  he  continued,  "  that  the  im- 
prisonment of  Louis  XVI.,  may  last  long,  and  if  your  inten- 
tion is  not  to  remain  here,  you  had  better  say  so  now.  It  is 
intended,  in  order  to  make  the  surveillance  easier,  to  lessen 
the  number  of  persons  employed  in  the  Tower.  If  you  re- 
main with  the  cidevant  king  you  will  be  absolutely  alone, 
and  your  work  will  become  much  heavier.  Wood  and  water 
for  one  week  will  be  brought  to  you  ;  but  you  will  have  to 
clean  the  apartment  and  do  all  the  other  work."  I  replied 
that  being  determined  not  to  leave  the  kiag  I  would  submit 
to  everything.  They  then  took  me  back  to  the  apartment 
of  His  Majesty,  who  said  to  me:  "You  heard  what  was 
said ;  you  will  take  my  decorations  off  my  coats  this  evening." 

The  next  day,  when  dressing  the  king,  I  told  him  I  had 
locked  up  the  crosses  and  the  cordons,  though  Manuel  had 
told  me  it  was  proper  to  send  them  to  the  Convention, 
"  You  did  right,"  said  His  Majesty. 

The  tale  has  been  spread  that  Manuel  came  to  the  Temple 
in  the  month  of  September  to  request  His  Majesty  to  write 
to  the  King  of  Prussia  at  the  time  of  his  entrance  into 
Champagne.  I  can  assure  every  one  that  Manuel  apjjeared 
in  the  Temple  only  twice  during  the  time  tliat  I  was  there, 
on  the  3d  of  September  and  the  7th  of  October ;  that  each 
time  he  was  accompanied  by  a  large  number  of  municipals, 
and  that  he  never  spoke  to  the  king  in  private. 


ir.l  MAPAMi:    fcLISAHKTII    DK    FRANCE.  [(  lur.  n. 

On  ilu'  Oih  of  Oct<»ber,  ihoy  brouplit  to  the  king  the 
journal  of  tho  doliates  in  tlio  Convention;  hut  a  few  days 
later,  a  niunieii'a!,  named  Michel,  a  jierfuiner,  obtained  an 
onler  whieli  again  forbade  the  entrance  of  all  public  prints 
to  the  Tower;  he  called  me  into  the  council-chamber  and 
asked  me  by  whose  order  journals  were  sent  to  my  address, 
li  was  true  that,  without  being  myself  infornu'd  how  or 
why,  four  newspapers  were  daily  brought  to  the  Tower, 
bearing  this  printed  address :  "To  the  valet  de  chainbre  of 
Louis  XVI.,  in  the  Tower  of  the  Tem])le."  I  have  always 
been  ignorant,  and  still  am,  of  the  name  of  the  person  who 
paid  the  subscription.  Michel  wanted  to  force  me  to  point 
it  out  to  him,  and  he  made  me  write  to  editors  and  publishers 
and  get  an  exjilanation  from  them ;  but  their  answers,  if 
they  made  any,  were  not  communicated  to  me. 

This  rule  of  not  permitting  newspapers  to  enter  the  Tower 
had  exceptions,  however,  when  they  gave  an  opportunity 
for  fresh  outrage.  If  they  contained  insulting  remarks 
about  the  king  or  queen,  atrocious  threats,  infamous  cal- 
umnies, certain  of  the  municipals  had  the  deliberate  wick- 
edness to  leave  them  on  the  mantel  or  the  waslistand  in  the 
king's  room,  in  order  that  they  might  fall  into  his  hands. 

Once  he  read  in  one  of  those  sheets  the  speech  of  an 
artillery-man  who  demanded  "  the  head  of  the  tyrant,  Louis 
XVI.,  that  he  might  load  his  cannon  with  it  and  send  it  to 
the  enemy."  Another  paper,  speaking  of  Madame  Elisabeth 
and  seeking  to  destroy  the  admiration  which  her  devotion 
to  the  king  and  queen  inspired  in  the  public  mind,  tried 
to  destroy  her  virtue  by  the  most  absurd  calumnies.  A 
third  said  they  ought  to  strangle  the  two  little  wolflings  in 
the  Tower,  meaning  thereby  the  dauphin  and  Madame 
Eoyale. 

The  king  was  not  affected  by  such    articles,  except   on 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  155 

account  of  the  people.  "  The  French,"  he  said,  "  are  most 
unfortunate  in  letting  themselves  be  thus  deceived."  I  took 
care  to  abstract  those  journals  if  I  chanced  to  be  the  first 
to  see  them ;  but  they  were  often  laid  there  when  my  duties 
took  me  out  of  his  room,  and  there  were  very  few  of  these 
articles,  written  for  the  purpose  of  outraging  the  royal 
family,  either  to  provoke  to  regicide  or  to  prepare  the  people 
to  let  it  be  committed,  which  were  not  read  by  the  king. 
Those  who  know  the  insolent  writings  published  in  those 
days  can  alone  form  an  idea  of  this  intolerable  form  of 
torture. 

The  influence  of  those  sanguinary  writings  could  be  seen 
in  the  conduct  of  most  of  the  municipal  officers,  who,  until 
then,  had  not  shown  themselves  so  harsh  or  so  malignant. 

One  day,  after  dinner,  I  wrote  a  memorial  of  expenditures 
in  the  council-chamber  and  locked  it  up  in  a  desk  of  which 
they  had  given  me  the  key.  I  had  hardly  left  the  room 
before  Marino,  a  mimicipal  officer,  said  to  his  colleagues 
(though  he  was  not  on  duty)  that  the  desk  must  be  opened 
and  examined  to  prove  whether  or  not  I  was  in  correspond- 
ence with  the  enemies  of  the  people.  "  I  know  him  well," 
he  added,  "  and  I  know  that  he  receives  letters  for  the 
king."  Then  accusing  his  colleagues  of  connivance,  he 
loaded  them  with  insults,  threatened  to  denounce  them  as 
accomplices,  and  went  off  to  execute  that  purpose.  The 
others  immediately  drew  up  a  proch-verhal  of  all  the  papers 
contained  in  my  desk  and  sent  it  to  the  Commune  before 
whom  Marino  had  already  made  his  denunciation. 

This  same  man  declared,  another  day,  that  a  back-gam- 
mon-board, which  I  had  had  mended  with  the  consent  of 
his  colleagues,  contained  a  correspondence ;  he  took  it  en- 
tirely apart  and  finding  nothing  he  had  it  glued  together 

again  in  his  presence. 
11  '\lom.  Ver.  1) 


ir)0  MADA.Mi:    I'.LISAnKTII    DK    FKANCE.  (chap.  h. 

One  Thursday,  my  wife  and  her  friend  having  come  to 
the  Temple  as  usual,  I  talked  with  them  in  the  council- 
chamber  ;  the  royal  family,  who  were  walking  iu  the  garden, 
saw  us,  and  the  queen  and  Madame  Elisabeth  gave  us  a 
little  nod.  That  motion,  one  of  simple  interest,  was  noticed 
by  Marino ;  nothing  more  was  needed  to  make  him  arrest 
my  wife  and  her  friend  the  moment  they  left  the  council- 
chamber.  They  were  questioned  separately ;  they  asked 
my  wife  who  the  lady  was  who  accompanied  her.  "  My 
sister,"  she  replied.  The  other,  being  asked  the  same  ques- 
tion, said  she  was  her  cousin.  This  contradiction  served  as 
the  matter  of  a  long  j^focts-verbal  and  the  gravest  sus- 
picions,—  Marino  declaring  that  the  lady  was  a  page  of 
the  queen  disguised.  At  last,  after  three  hours  of  the  most 
painful  and  insulting  examination,  tliey  were  set  at  liberty. 

They  were  allowed  to  return  to  the  Temple,  but  we  re- 
doubled our  prudence  and  precautions.  I  often  managed,  in 
our  short  interviews,  to  give  them  notes  which  Madame 
Elisabeth  had  contrived  to  secrete  from  the  searches  of  the 
municipals;  these  notes  usually  related  to  information  de- 
sired by  Their  Majesties.  Luckily,  I  had  not  given  any  on 
that  occasion ;  had  one  of  those  notes  been  found  upon 
them  we  should  all  three  have  run  the  greatest  danger. 

Other  municipals  made  themselves  remarkable  by  ridicu- 
lous actions.  One  broke  up  all  the  macaroons  to  see  if  they 
contained  writings ;  another,  for  the  same  purpose,  ordered 
the  peaches  cut  in  two  before  him,  and  their  stones  cracked. 
A  third  forced  me  one  day  to  drink  some  essence  of  soap 
with  which  the  king  shaved  himself,  affecting  to  fear  there 
was  poison  in  it.  After  each  meal  Madame  Elisabeth  used 
to  give  me  a  little  knife  with  a  gold  blade  to  clean ;  often 
the  commissioners  would  snatch  it  from  my  hands  to  see  if 
a  note  had  been  slipj)ed  into  the  sheath. 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  157 

Madame  Elisabeth  ordered  me  one  day  to  send  back  to 
the  Duchesse  de  Sdrent  a  book  of  devotions ;  the  municipals 
cut  off  the  margins  of  every  page,  fearing  she  had  written 
something  on  them  with  invisible  ink. 

One  of  them  forbade  me  one  day  to  go  up  into  the  queen's 
room  to  do  her  hair.  Her  Majesty  was  forced  to  come  down 
into  the  king's  room,  and  bring  with  her  all  that  was  required 
for  her  toilet. 

Another  wanted  to  follow  her  when,  according  to  her  cus- 
tom, she  went  into  Madame  Elisabeth's  room  to  change  her 
morning  dress.  I  represented  to  him  the  indecency  of  that 
proceeding.  He  insisted ;  Her  Majesty  then  left  the  room 
and  renounced  dressing  herself. 

W^ien  I  received  the  linen  from  the  wash,  the  municipals 
made  me  unfold  every  piece  and  examine  it  in  broad  day- 
light. The  washerwoman's  book  and  all  other  papers  were 
held  to  the  fire  to  see  if  there  was  secret  writing  on  them. 
The  linen  the  king  and  the  princesses  took  off  was  subjected 
to  the  same  examination. 

Some  municipals,  however,  did  not  take  part  in  the  harsh- 
ness of  their  colleagues ;  but  most  of  these,  becoming  sus- 
pected by  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  died  victims  of 
their  humanity ;  those  who  still  live  have  languished  long 
in  prison. 

A  young  man  named  Toulan,  whom  I  thought,  from  his 
talk,  to  be  one  of  the  worst  enemies  of  the  royal  family, 
came  one  day  close  to  me  and  said,  with  mystery,  "  I  cannot 
speak  to  the  queen  to-day  on  account  of  my  comrades ;  tell 
her  that  the  commission  she  gave  me  is  done,  and  that  in  a 
few  days  I  shall  be  on  duty,  and  then  I  will  bring  her  the 
answer."  Astonished  to  hear  him  speak  thus,  and  fearing 
that  he  was  laying  a  trap,  I  replied,  "  Monsieur,  you  are  mis- 
taken in  addressing  yourself  to  ine  for  such  commissions." 


ir>S  MAPAMK    ftLlSAUKTlI    DK    KKANCK.  [chap.  m. 

•  Nn.  1  am  not  mistaken,"  lie  ivi»lieil,  grasping  my  liaml  as 
he  left  nie.  1  related  the  eonversation  to  the  ([ueen.  "  Yuu 
ean  trust  Toulan,"  she  said.  This  young  man  was  afterwards 
iuiplieated  in  the  queen's  trial,  with  nine  other  municipal 
ofticers  accused  of  wishing  to  favour  the  escape  of  the  (lueeu 
from  the  Temi>le.     Toulan  perished  in  the  last  executions. 

Their  Majesties,  shut  up  in  the  Tower  for  three  months, 
had  so  far  seen  none  but  the  municipal  officers,  when,  on  the 
1st  of  November,  a  deputation  from  the  National  Conven- 
tion was  announced  to  them.  It  was  composed  of  Drouet, 
post-master  at  Varennes,  Chabot,  an  ex-capuchin,  Dubois- 
Cranet5,  iJuprat,  and  two  others  whose  names  I  forget.  This 
deputation  asked  the  king  how  he  was  treated  and  whether 
they  gave  him  all  necessary  things.  "  I  complain  of  noth- 
ing," answered  His  Majesty.  "  I  merely  request  that  the 
commissioners  will  remit  to  my  valet  de  chambre,  or  deposit 
with  the  council,  the  sum  of  two  thousand  francs  for  small 
current  expenses ;  also,  that  we  may  receive  linen  and  other 
clothing  of  which  we  are  greatly  in  need."  The  deputies 
promised  all  this,  but  nothing  was  sent. 

Some  days  later  the  king  had  quite  a  considerable  swelling 
of  his  face ;  I  asked  urgently  that  his  dentist,  M.  Dubois, 
might  be  sent  for.  They  deliberated  three  days,  and  then 
refused  the  request.  Fever  set  in,  and  then,  at  last,  they 
permitted  His  Majesty  to  consult  his  head  physician,  M.  le 
Monnier.  It  would  be  difficult  to  picture  the  distress  of  that 
respectable  old  man  when  he  saw  his  master. 

The  queen  and  her  children  almost  never  left  the  king 
during  the  day ;  they  nursed  him  with  me,  and  often  helped 
me  in  making  his  bed.  I  passed  the  nights  alone  beside 
him.  M.  le  Monnier  came  twice  a  day,  accompanied  by  a 
large  number  of  municipals.  His  person  was  searched,  and 
he  was  not  allowed  to  speak  except  in  a  loud  voice.    One  day 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  159 

when  the  king  had  taken  medicine,  M.  le  Monnier  asked  to 
he  allowed  to  remain  a  few  hours.  As  he  remained  stand- 
ing, —  the  municipals  being  seated  with  their  hats  on  their 
heads,  —  the  king  asked  him  to  take  a  seat ;  he  refused,  out 
of  respect,  and  the  commissioners  murmured  loudly. 

The  king's  illness  lasted  ten  days.  A  few  days  later  the 
young  prince,  who  slept  in  His  Majesty's  room,  the  munici- 
pals refusing  to  transfer  him  to  that  of  the  queen,  had  fever. 
The  queen  felt  all  the  more  anxiety  because  she  could  not 
obtain  permission,  though  she  urged  it  eagerly,  to  stay  during 
the  night  with  her  son.  She  gave  him  the  most  tender  care 
during  the  hours  she  was  allowed  to  be  with  him.  The 
same  illness  was  communicated  to  the  queen,  to  Madame 
Eoyale,  and  to  Madame  Elisabeth.  M.  le  Monnier  obtained 
permission  to  continue  his  visits. 

I  fell  ill  in  my  turn.  The  room  I  occupied  was  damp  and 
without  a  chimney  ;  the  shutter  of  the  window  intercepted 
what  little  air  there  was.  I  was  attacked  by  rheumatic 
fever  with  severe  pains  in  the  side  which  forced  me  to  keep 
my  bed.  The  first  day  I  rose  to  dress  the  king,  but  His 
Majesty,  seeing  my  state,  refused  my  care,  ordered  me  to  go 
to  bed,  and  himself  dressed  his  son. 

During  that  first  day  tlie  dauphin  hardly  left  me ;  that 
august  child  gave  me  drink ;  in  the  evening,  the  king  took 
advantage  of  a  moment  when  he  seemed  to  be  less  watched, 
to  enter  my  room ;  he  gave  me  a  glass  of  some  drink,  and 
said,  with  a  kindness  that  made  me  slied  tears :  "  T  sliould 
like  to  take  care  of  you  myself,  but  you  know  how  we  are 
watched ;  take  courage  ;  to-morrow  you  shall  see  my  doctor." 
At  supper-time,  the  royal  family  came  into  my  room  and 
Madame  Elisabeth  gave  me,  without  the  municipals  observ- 
ing it,  a  bottle  containing  syrup  of  squills ;  the  princess, 
although  she   had   a  heavy  cold,  deprived  herself  of  that 


100  MADAMK    Kl.lSAnKTII    DK    FRANCE.  |(  hat.  ii. 

renioily  for  iiic  1  wanted  to  refuse  it,  luit  she  insisted. 
After  supixT,  the  queen  undressed  tlie  dau]>hin  and  put  liini 
to  l)ed  ;  and  Madame  Klisahelh  rolled  the  kinf];'s  hair. 

The  next  morning  M.  le  Monnier  ordered  nie  to  be  bled ; 
but  the  eonsent  of  the  Conmume  had  to  be  obtained  to  the 
enlranee  of  a  surgeon.  Tliey  talked  of  transferring  me  to 
the  palace  of  the  Temple.  Fearing  that  I  should  never  get 
back  into  the  Tower  if  I  once  went  out  of  it,  1  pretended  to 
feel  much  better.  That  evening  new  nnuiicipals  arrived  and 
there  was  no  further  question  of  transferring  me. 

Turg}-  asked  to  pass  the  night  with  me.  The  request  was 
granted,  also  to  his  two  comrades  who  took  turns  in  sitting 
up  with  me.  I  was  six  days  in  bed,  and  each  day  the  royal 
family  came  to  see  me;  IMadame  Elisabeth  often  brought 
me  things  she  used  for  herself.  So  much  kindness  restored 
a  portion  of  my  strength,  for  instead  of  the  feeling  of  my 
sufferings,  I  had  tliat  of  gratitude  and  admiration.  Who 
would  not  have  been  touched  to  see  that  august  family  sus- 
pend, as  it  were,  the  thought  of  its  great  misfortunes,  to 
busy  itself  with  those  of  its  servant? 

I  ought  not  to  forget  here  a  trait  of  the  dauphin  which 
proves  the  goodness  of  his  heart  and  how  much  he  profited 
by  the  examples  of  virtue  he  had  always  before  his  eyes. 

One  night,  after  putting  him  to  bed,  I  retired  to  make 
way  for  the  queen  and  the  princesses,  who  always  came  to 
kiss  him  for  good-night  in  his  bed.  Madame  Elisabeth,  with 
whom  the  close  watchfulness  of  the  municipals  had  that  day 
prevented  me  from  speaking,  took  advantage  of  that  moment 
to  give  him  a  little  box  of  ipecacuanha  tablets,  telling  him  to 
give  them  to  me  when  I  returned.  The  princesses  went  up 
to  their  rooms,  the  king  jjassed  into  his  cabinet,  and  I  went 
to  supper.  I  returned  about  eleven  o'clock  to  prepare  the 
king's  bed ;  I  was  alone  ;  the  little  prince  called  me  in  a  low 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  161 

voice.  Much  surprised  at  finding  him  awake  and  fearing  he 
was  ill,  I  went  to  him.  "  My  aunt  gave  me  this  little  box  for 
you,"  he  said,  "  and  1  would  not  go  to  sleep  without  giving  it 
to  you ;  it  was  high  time  you  came,  for  my  eyes  have  shut 
up  several  times."  Mine  filled  with  tears  ;  he  saw  them 
and  kissed  me,  and  in  two  minutes  more  he  was  sound 
asleep. 

To  this  sensibility  the  young  prince  added  many  graces 
and  the  lovability  of  his  age.  Often  by  his  naivete,  the 
gaiety  of  his  nature,  and  his  little  rogueries  he  made  his 
parents  forget  for  a  moment  their  cruel  situation.  But  he 
felt  it  himself;  although  so  young,  he  knew  he  was  in  a 
prison  and  watched  by  enemies.  His  behaviour  and  his 
talk  acquired  that  reserve  which  instinct,  in  presence  of  a 
danger  inspires  perhaps  at  any  age.  Never  did  I  hear  him 
mention  the  Tuileries,  or  Versailles,  or  any  subject  that 
might  remind  the  queen  or  the  king  of  painful  memories. 
When  he  saw  some  municipal  kinder  than  his  colleagues  on 
guard,  he  would  run  to  his  mother  and  say  with  an  expres- 
sion of  great  satisfaction :  "  Mamma,  it  is  Monsieur  Such-a- 
one  to-day." 

Once  he  fixed  his  eyes  so  long  on  a  municipal,  seeming  to 
recognize  him,  that  the  man  asked  where  he  had  seen  him. 
The  little  prince  refused  for  sometime  to  answer ;  at  last, 
leaning  towards  the  queen,  he  said  to  her  in  a  whisper,  "  It 
was  when  we  went  to  Varennes." 

Here  is  still  another  proof  of  his  sensitive  feelings.  A 
mason  was  employed  in  making  holes  in  the  wall  of  the 
antechamber  so  as  to  put  enormous  bolts  to  the  door.  While 
the  man  ate  his  breakfast  the  little  prince  amused  himself 
with  his  tools ;  the  king  took  the  hammer  and  chisel  from 
his  son's  hands  and  showed  him  how  to  use  them.  The 
mason,  touched  at  seeing  the  king  work,  said  to  His  Majesty  : 


1(12  MADAMi:    (n.lSAIJKTll    DK    KUANCi:.  [ciiai-.  n. 

"  WluMi  yiui  gi't  out  i)f  here  yi>u  can  say  lliaL  you  worked 
yourself  at  your  prison."  —  "  Ah  !  "  said  the  king,  "  when  and 
how  shall  1  get  out?"  The  little  prince  hurst  into  tears; 
the  king  let  fall  the  hammer  and  chisel  and  went  hack  to  liis 
rcxim,  where  he  widked  u}>  and  down  with  hasty  strides. 

Dccemher  2d,  the  municipality  of  the  10th  of  Augu.^t 
was  replaceil  by  another,  under  the  title  of  Provisional 
Municipality.  Many  of  the  former  members  were  re-elected. 
I  thought,  at  lirst,  that  the  new  set  were  l)etter  than  the 
old,  and  I  hoped  for  some  favourable  changes  in  the  system 
of  the  prison.  I  was  mistaken.  Many  of  the  new  commis- 
sioners gave  me  reason  to  regret  their  predecessors ;  the 
latter  were  coarser,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  easy  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  their  natural  indiscretion  to  find  out  all  they 
knew.  I  had  to  study  the  commissioners  of  the  new  mmii- 
cipality  to  judge  of  their  conduct  and  their  character ;  their 
malignity  was  much  more  premeditated. 

Until  this  time  only  one  municipal  was  constantly  on 
guard  over  the  king,  and  one  over  the  queen.  The  new 
municipality  ordered  two,  and  henceforth  it  was  much  more 
difficult  for  me  to  speak  with  the  king  and  the  princesses 
On  the  other  hand,  tlie  council,  which  until  then  had  been 
held  in  one  of  the  halls  of  the  Temple  palace,  was  trans- 
ferred to  a  room  on  the  ground-floor  of  the  Tower,  The 
new  municipals  wished  to  surpass  the  former  ones  in  zeal, 
and  this  zeal  was  emiilation  of  tyranny. 

December  7,  a  municipal,  at  the  head  of  a  deputation 
from  the  Commune,  came  to  read  to  the  king  a  decree  which 
ordered  him  to  take  from  the  prisoners  "  knives,  razors,  scis- 
sors, penknives,  and  all  other  sharp  instruments  of  which 
prisoners  presumed  criminal  are  deprived ;  and  to  make  a 
most  minute  search  of  their  persons  and  of  their  apartments." 

During  the  reading,  the  municipal's  voice  shook,  and  it 


1792]  THE    CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVI.  163 

was  easy  to  see  the  violence  he  was  putting  upon  himself; 
and  he  afterwards  proved  by  his  conduct  that  he  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  sent  to  the  Temple  solely  to  endeav- 
our to  be  useful  to  the  royal  family.  The  king  took  from 
his  pockets  a  knife  and  a  little  case  of  red  morocco,  from 
which  he  drew  scissors  and  a  penknife.  The  municipals 
made  the  most  careful  search  through  the  apartments, 
taking  razors,  a  ruler  for  rolling  hair,  a  toilet-knife,  little 
instruments  for  cleaning  the  teeth,  and  other  articles  in  gold 
and  silver.  The  same  search  was  made  in  my  room,  and  I 
was  ordered  to  give  up  whatever  was  on  my  person. 

The  municipals  then  went  up  to  the  queen :  they  read  the 
same  decree  to  the  three  princesses  and  took  away  from  them 
even  the  little  articles  that  were  necessary  for  their  work. 

An  hour  later,  I  was  made  to  go  down  into  the  council- 
chamber,  and  they  asked  me  if  I  knew  what  articles  re- 
mained in  the  red  morocco  case  the  king  had  put  back  into 
his  pocket.  "I  order  you,"  said  a  municipal  named  Ser- 
maize,  "  to  take  that  case  away  from  him  to-night."  "  It  is 
not  my  place,"  I  said,  "  to  execute  the  decrees  of  the  Con- 
vention, nor  to  search  the  king's  pockets."  "  Cl^ry  is  right," 
said  another  municipal ;  "  it  was  your  place,"  addressing 
Sermaize,  "  to  make  that  search." 

Tliey  then  drew  up  a  jiroccs-verhal  of  all  tlie  articles 
taken  from  the  royal  family,  and  sorted  them  into  packets, 
which  they  sealed  up ;  they  next  ordered  me  to  sign  m} 
name  at  the  bottom  of  a  decree  which  enjoined  me  to  re- 
port to  the  council  if  I  discovered  on  the  king  or  the  prin- 
cesses, or  in  their  apartments,  any  sharp  instruments ;  these 
different  documents  were  sent  to  the  Commune. 

On  looking  through  the  registers  of  the  Temple  it  will  be 
seen  that  I  was  often  forced  to  sign  decrees  of  wliich  I  was 
very  far  from  approving  either  the  object  or  the  wording.     I 


164  MAPAMK    KMSAIU:  Til    DK    riCANCK.  [cukv.   ii 

never  signed  ntiytliing,  never  said  anything,  never  did  any- 
thing, except  l>y  the  special  order  of  tlie  king  or  of  tiie 
queen.  A  refusal  on  my  part  wouhl  have  caused  my  sep- 
aration from  Thi'ir  Majesties,  to  whom  1  had  consecrated 
my  existence ;  my  signature  at  tlie  foot  of  certain  decrees 
had  no  other  meaning  than  to  admit  tliat  those  documents 
had  been  read  to  me. 

This  Sermaize  of  whom  I  have  just  spoken  took  me  back 
to  the  apartment  of  His  Majesty.  The  kiiig  was  sitting 
near  the  fireplace,  tongs  in  hand.  Sermaize  asked  him,  in 
the  name  of  the  council,  to  show  what  remained  in  the  red 
morocco  case.  The  king  drew  it  from  his  pocket ;  in  it  was 
a  screw-driver,  a  corkscrew,  and  a  flint.  Sermaize  took  pos- 
session of  them.  "  Are  not  these  tongs  which  I  have  in  my 
hand  sharp  instruments  ? "  said  the  king,  turning  his  back 
upon  him. 

At  dinner-time  an  argument  arose  among  the  commission- 
ers. Some  were  opposed  to  the  use  by  the  roj-al  family  of 
knives  and  forks;  others  consented  to  allow  forks;  at  last 
it  was  decided  to  make  no  change;  but  to  take  away  the 
knives  and  forks  at  the  conclusion  of  each  meal. 

This  deprivation  of  their  little  articles  was  all  the  more 
tr}-Lng  to  the  queen  and  the  princesses  because  it  obliged 
them  to  give  up  various  kinds  of  work  which  until  then  had 
served  to  occupy  and  amuse  those  long  days  in  prison.  One 
day,  when  Madame  Elisabeth  was  mending  the  king's 
clothes,  she  broke  ofif  the  thread  with  her  teeth,  having  no 
scissors.  "  What  a  contrast ! "  said  the  king,  looking  at  her 
fixedly  and  tenderly ;  "  you  lacked  for  nothing  in  your  pretty 
house  at  ^lontreuil."  "  Ah  1  brother,"  she  replied,  "  can  I 
have  regrets  when  I  share  your  sorrow  ?  * 

'  Madame  Elisabeth  was  always  notable  and  clever  at  work  of  all  kinds. 
One  of  her  ladies,  watching  her  one  day,  said  what  a  pity  it  was  that  such 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVI.  165 

Day  after  day  brought  new  decrees  each  of  which  was  a 
fresh  tyranny.  The  roughness  and  harshness  of  the  muni- 
cipals towards  me  was  greater  than  ever.  The  three  men 
from  the  kitchen  were  forbidden  to  speak  to  me ;  this,  and 
other  things  made  me  fear  some  fresh  catastrophe.  The 
queen  and  Madame  Elisabeth,  struck  by  the  same  presenti- 
ment, asked  me  constantly  for  news,  which  I  could  not  give 
them. 

At  last,  on  Thursday,  my  wife  and  her  friend  arrived.  I 
was  taken  down  to  the  council-chamber.  She  talked,  as 
usual,  in  a  loud  voice  to  disarm  the  suspicions  of  our  new 
jailers ;  and  while  she  was  giving  me  details  of  our  domestic 
affairs  her  friend  said  :  "  Next  Tuesday,  they  take  the  king 
to  the  Convention ;  his  trial  will  begin ;  he  may  get  coun- 
sel; all  this  is  certain." 

I  did  not  know  how  to  announce  this  dreadful  news  to 
the  king ;  I  wanted  to  inform  the  queen  or  Madame  Elisa- 
beth of  it  first ;  but  I  was  in  great  alarm  ;  time  was  passing, 
and  the  king  had  forbidden  me  to  conceal  anything  from 
him.  That  night,  as  I  undressed  him,  I  told  him  what  I 
had  heard ;  I  made  him  foresee  that  they  would  certainly 
during  his  trial  separate  him  from  his  family ;  and  I  added 
that  there  were  but  four  days  in  which  to  concert  with  the 
queen  some  method  of  communication  between  them.  I 
assured  him  that  I  was  determined  to  undertake  everything 
that  would  facilitate  that  object.  Tlie  entrance  of  a  munici- 
pal did  not  allow  me  to  say  more  and  prevented  His  Majesty 
from  replying  to  me. 

The  next  day,  when  he  rose,  I  could  not  find  a  chance 
to  speak  to  him.     He  went  up  with  his  son  to  breakfast 

a  faculty  was  wasted  on  one  who  did  not  need  it.  "Ah!"  e.xelaiined 
Madame  ^'lisabeth,  "  it  is  good  to  do  everything  as  well  as  one  can  ;  and, 
besides,  who  knows  ?  I  may  have  to  get  my  living  in  this  way."  — Tk. 


ir.f)  MADAMK    f-.MSAHiyni    DK    rUANCK.  [.hap.   ii. 

with  the  princesses  ami  1  followed  him.  After  breakfast 
he  talkeil  some  time  with  the  (lueeii  and  I  saw  by  her  look 
of  sorrow  that  he  was  telling  her  wliat  I  had  said  to  him. 
1  found,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  an  o}>portunity  to  talk 
with  Madame  Elisabeth ;  I  explained  to  her  how  much  it 
had  cost  me  to  inform  tlie  king  of  his  coming  trial  and 
tlius  increase  his  troubles.  She  reassured  me,  saying  that 
the  king  was  much  touched  by  that  mark  of  my  attach- 
ment. "  \Vliat  troubles  him  most,"  she  added, "  is  the  fear  of 
being  separated  from  us  ;  try  to  get  more  information." 

That  evening  the  king  told  me  how  glad  he  was  to  have 
lieard  in  advance  that  he  was  to  appear  before  the  Conven- 
tion. "  Continue,"  he  said,  "  to  try  to  discover  what  they 
mean  to  do  with  me ;  do  not  fear  to  distress  me.  I  have 
agreed  with  my  family  not  to  seem  informed,  in  order  not 
to  compromise  you." 

The  nearer  the  day  of  the  trial  approached,  the  more  dis- 
trust was  shown  to  me ;  the  municipals  would  not  reply  to 
any  of  my  questions.  I  had  already  employed,  in  vain, 
various  pretexts  to  go  down  into  the  council-chamber,  where 
I  might  have  picked  up  some  new  details  to  communicate 
to  the  king,  when  the  commission  appointed  to  audit  the 
expenses  of  the  royal  family  came  to  the  Temple.  They 
were  obliged  then  to  let  me  go  down  to  give  information, 
and  I  heard  from  a  well-intentioned  municipal  that  the 
separation  of  the  king  from  his  famUy,  though  decreed  by 
the  Commune,  was  not  yet  decided  in  tlie  National  As- 
sembly, That  same  day  Turgy  brought  me  a  newspaper  in 
which  I  found  the  decree,  which  ordered  that  the  king  be 
brought  before  the  bar  of  the  Convention ;  he  also  gave  me 
a  memorial  on  the  king's  trial,  published  by  M.  Necker. 
I  had  no  other  means  of  conveying  the  paper  and  memorial 
to  the  king  than  to  place  them  under  one  of  the  articles  of 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  167 

furniture  in  the  privy,  telling  the  king  and  the  princesses 
that  they  were  there. 

December  11,  1792,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we 
heard  the  generate  beaten  throughout  Paris,  and  cavalry 
and  cannon  were  brought  into  the  garden  of  the  Temple. 
This  uproar  would  have  cruelly  alarmed  the  royal  family 
if  they  had  not  already  known  its  cause.  Nevertheless,  they 
feigned  to  be  ignorant  of  it,  and  asked  an  explanation  of  the 
commissioners  on  duty,  who  refused  to  reply. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  king  and  the  dauphin  went  up  to 
breakfast  in  the  queen's  ax3artment.  Their  Majesties  re- 
mained about  an  hour  together ;  always  under  the  gaze  of 
the  municipals.  This  continual  torture  for  all  the  family 
of  never  being  able  to  show  any  emotion,  any  effusion  of 
feeling  at  a  moment  when  so  many  fears  agitated  them,  was 
one  of  the  most  refined  cruelties  of  their  tyrants  and  the  one 
in  which  those  tyrants  took  most  delight.  The  time  came  to 
separate.  The  king  quitted  the  queen,  Madame  Elisabeth, 
and  his  daughter ;  their  looks  expressed  what  they  could 
not  say.  The  dauphin  went  down,  as  usual,  with  the 
king. 

The  little  prince,  who  often  persuaded  his  father  to  play 
a  game  of  Siam  with  him,  was  so  mgent  that  day  that  the 
king,  in  spite  of  his  situation,  could  not  refuse.  The  dauphin 
lost  all  the  games,  and  twice  could  not  go  higher  than  six- 
teen. "Every  time  I  get  to  that  point  Seize  I  lose  the 
game,"  he  said  with  some  vexation.  The  king  made  no 
reply;  but  I  thought  I  saw  that  the  sound  of  that  word 
made  a  certain  impression  on   him. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  while  the  king  was  giving  his  son  a 
reading-lesson,  two  municipals  entered  and  told  His  Majesty 
that  they  had  come  to  fetch  young  Louis  and  take  him  to 
his  mother.     The  king  wislied  to  know  the  reason  of  this 


168  MADAME    KMSAliKlll    DK    FKANCK.  [chap.  h. 

removal ;  the  commissioners  replied  that  they  executed  the 
orders  of  the  couucil  of  the  Commuue.  His  ^lajesty  kissed 
his  sou  tenderly,  and  charged  nie  to  go  with  him.  When  I 
returned  to  the  king,  I  told  him  1  hiul  left  the  young  prince 
in  his  mother's  arms,  and  that  seemed  to  tranquillize  His 
Majesty.  One  of  the  commissioners  entered  to  inform  him 
that  Chambon,  mayor  of  Paris,  was  in  the  council-chamber 
and  was  coming  up  to  see  him.  "  AVhat  does  he  want 
of  me  ? "  asked  the  king.  "  I  do  not  know,"  replied  the 
municipal. 

His  Majesty  walked  hastily  up  and  down  his  room  for 
some  moments ;  then  he  seated  himself  in  an  arm-chair  close 
to  the  head  of  his  bed;  the  door  was  half  closed  and  the 
mimicipal  dared  not  enter,  to  avoid,  as  he  told  me,  questions. 
Half  an  hour  passed  thus  in  the  deepest  silence.  The  com- 
missioner became  uneasy  at  not  hearing  the  king ;  he  entered 
softly,  and  found  him  with  his  head  on  one  of  his  hands, 
apparently  deeply  absorbed.  "  "Wliat  do  you  want  ? "  asked 
the  king,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  I  feared  you  were  ill,"  replied 
the  mimicipal.  "  I  am  obliged  to  you,"  said  the  king,  in  a 
tone  of  the  keenest  sorrow,  "  but  the  manner  in  which  my 
son  has  been  taken  from  me  is  infinitely  painful  to  me."  The 
mimicipal  said  nothing  and  withdrew. 

The  mayor  did  not  appear  for  an  hour.  He  v/as  accom- 
panied by  Chaumette,  public  prosecutor  of  the  Commime, 
Colombeau,  secretary,  several  municipal  officers,  and  Santerre, 
commander  of  the  National  Guard,  who  brought  his  aides-de- 
camp with  him. 

The  mayor  told  the  king  that  he  had  come  to  fetch  him 
to  take  him  before  the  Convention,  in  virtue  of  a  decree  w4iich 
the  secretary  of  the  Commune  would  read  to  him.  This 
decree  stated  that  "  Louis  Capet  would  be  arraigned  before 
the  bar  of  the  National  Convention."     "  Capet  is  not  my 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   LOUIS   XVI.  169 

name,"  said  the  king ;  "  it  is  the  name  of  one  of  mj  ances- 
tors. I  could  have  wished,  monsieur,"  he  added,  "  that  the 
commissioners  had  left  me  my  son  during  the  two  hours  I 
have  passed  in  waiting  for  you.  This  treatment  is  but  the 
sequel  of  all  that  I  have  borne  here  for  the  past  four  months ; 
I  shall  now  follow  you,  not  to  obey  the  Convention,  but 
'because  my  enemies  have  the  power  to  force  me."  I  gave 
His  Majesty  his  overcoat  and  his  hat,  and  he  followed  the 
mayor  of  Paris.  A  numerous  escort  awaited  him  at  the  gate 
of  the  Temple. 

Left  alone  in  the  room  with  a  municipal  I  learned  from 
him  that  the  king  would  never  see  his  family  again,  but  that 
the  mayor  was  to  consult  with  some  of  the  deputies  about 
the  separation.  I  asked  the  commissioner  to  take  me  to  the 
dauphin,  who  was  with  the  queen,  which  he  did.  I  did  not 
leave  the  little  prince  until  six  o'clock,  when  the  king  re- 
turned from  the  Convention,  The  municipals  informed  the 
queen  of  the  king's  departure  for  the  Assembly,  but  they 
would  not  enter  into  any  details.  The  princesses  and  the 
dauphin  went  down  as  usual  to  dine  in  the  king's  room,  and 
returned  to  their  own  immediately. 

After  dinner  a  single  municipal  remained  in  the  queen's 
room ;  he  was  a  young  man  about  twenty-four  years  of  age, 
belonging  to  the  section  of  the  Temple ;  he  was  on  guard  at 
the  Tower  for  the  first  time,  and  seemed  to  be  less  suspicious 
and  more  civil  than  most  of  his  colleagues.  The  queen  be- 
gan a  conversation  with  him,  asked  him  about  his  profession, 
his  parents,  etc.  Madame  Elisabeth  seized  the  moment  to 
pass  into  her  own  room,  and  made  me  a  sign  to  follow 
her. 

Once  there,  I  told  her  that  the  Commune  had  decreed  the 
separation  of  the  king  from  his  family,  that  I  feared  it  would 
take  place  that  very  evening,  for  although  the  Convention 


170  MADAMK    KLISAHKIH    DK    FUANCK.  [<;iiai-.  ii. 

had  not  UetonuiiKHl  on  it,  the  mayor  luul  i^one  there  to  make 
the  request,  which  woiikl,  no  doubt,  be  granted. 

"  The  queen  and  1,"  answered  Madame  Elisabeth,  "expect 
tlie  worst ;  we  make  oui-selves  no  ilhisions  as  to  tlie  fate  they 
are  preparing  for  the  king.  He  will  die  a  victim  to  his  kind- 
ness and  his  love  for  his  people,  for  whose  happiness  he  has 
never  ceased  to  work  since  he  ascended  the  throne.  How 
cruelly  that  people  is  deceived !  The  king's  religion  and 
his  great  confidence  in  Providence  will  sustain  him  in  this 
cruel  adversity.  "  And  now,  Cldry,"  added  the  virtuous 
princess,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears,  "  you  will  be  alone  with 
my  brother ;  redouble,  if  possible,  your  care  of  him,  and  neg- 
lect no  means  of  making  news  of  him  reach  us ;  but  for  any 
other  purpose  do  not  expose  yourself,  for  if  you  do  we  shall 
be  left  with  no  one  in  whom  we  can  trust."  I  assured 
Madame  Elisabeth  of  my  devotion  to  the  king,  and  we  agreed 
upon  the  means  to  employ  to  keep  up  a  correspondence. 

Turg}'  was  the  only  one  whom  I  could  put  into  the  secret ; 
but  I  could  seldom  speak  to  him,  and  then  with  precaution. 
It  was  agi'eed  that  I  should  continue  to  take  care  of  the 
linen  and  clothes  of  the  dauphin ;  that  eveiy  two  days  I 
should  send  him  what  was  necessary,  and  that  I  should  use 
that  opportunity  to  convey  to  them  news  of  what  was  happen- 
ing with  the  king.  This  suggested  to  Madame  Elisabeth  the 
idea  of  giving  me  one  of  her  handkerchiefs.  "  Keep  it,"  she 
said,  "  as  long  as  my  brother  is  well ;  if  he  should  be  ill  send 
it  to  me  in  my  nephew's  linen."  The  manner  of  folding  it 
was  to  indicate  the  sort  of  illness. 

The  grief  of  the  princess  in  speaking  to  me  of  the  king, 
her  indifference  as  to  her  personal  situation,  the  value  she 
deigned  to  set  on  my  poor  services  to  His  Majesty  affected 
me  deeply.  "  Have  you  heard  anything  said  of  the  queen  ? " 
she  asked  with  a  species  of  terror.     "  Alas  !  what  can  they 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY  0^  LOUIS  XVl.  171 

bring  against  her  ?  "  "  No,  Madame,"  I  replied,  "  but  what 
can  they  bring  against  the  king  ? "  "  Oh,  nothing,  nothing," 
she  said,  "but  perhaps  they  regard  the  king  as  a  victim 
necessary  to  their  safety.  The  queen,  on  the  contrary,  and 
her  children  cannot  be  obstacles  to  their  ambition."  I  took 
the  liberty  of  remarking  that  probably  the  king  would  be 
sentenced  only  to  transportation ;  that  I  had  heard  it  spoken 
of,  and  that  Spain,  being  the  only  country  that  had  not  de- 
clared war,  it  was  likely  that  the  king  and  his  family  would 
be  taken  there.  "  I  have  no  hope,"  she  said,  "  that  the  king 
will  be  saved." 

I  thought  I  ought  to  add  that  the  foreign  Powers  were 
consulting  as  to  the  means  of  drawing  the  king  out  of  prison ; 
that  Monsieur  and  the  Comte  d'Artois  were  again  assembling 
the  emigres  around  them,  and  would  unite  them  with  the 
Austrian  and  Prussian  troops;  that  Spain  and  England 
would  take  steps  ;  that  all  Europe  was  interested  in  prevent- 
ing the  death  of  the  king,  and  therefore  that  the  Convention 
would  have  to  reflect  very  seriously  before  deciding  his  fate. 

This  conversation  lasted  an  hour,  and  then  Madame  lllisa- 
beth  (to  whom  I  had  never  before  spoken  at  such  length), 
fearing  the  entrance  of  the  new  municipals,  left  me  to  return 
to  the  queen's  apartment.  Tison  and  his  wife,  who  watched 
me  incessantly,  remarked  that  I  had  stayed  a  long  time 
with  Madame  Elisabeth,  and  they  were  afraid  that  the  com- 
missioner would  notice  it.  I  told  them  that  the  princess  had 
been  talking  to  me  about  her  nephew,  who  would  probably 
be  in  future  with  his  mother. 

At  six  o'clock  the  commissioners  sent  for  me  into  the 

council-room.      They  read  me  a  decree  of   the  Commune 

which  ordered  me  to  have  no  further  communication  with 

the  three  princesses  and  the  little  prince,  because  I  was  to 

serve  the  king  only.     It  was  also  decreed,  in  order  to  put  the 
12  Mem.  Vcr.  I) 


172  MADAMK    f:LISAHr.!"lI    1)E   FRANCE.  [ciiai-.  n. 

king  into  more  solitary  confinement,  that  I  should  no  longer 
sleep  in  his  apartment,  but  in  the  small  tower,  and  be  con- 
ducted to  the  king  at  such  times  only  as  lie  liad  need  of 
me. 

At  half-past  six  o'clock  the  king  returned  from  the  Con- 
vention. He  seemed  fatigued,  and  his  first  desire  was  to  be 
taken  to  his  family.  The  request  was  refused  under  pretext 
of  having  no  orders ;  he  insisted  that  the  queen  should  at 
least  be  told  of  his  return,  and  this  was  promised  to  him. 
He  ordered  me  to  ask  for  his  supper  at  half-past  eight 
o'clock  ;  and  he  employed  the  interval  in  his  usual  reading, 
surrounded  by  four  municipals. 

At  half-past  eight  I  went  to  inform  His  Majesty  that  his 
supper  was  served ;  he  asked  the  commissioners  if  his  family 
were  not  coming  down ;  they  made  him  no  answer.  "  But 
at  least,"  said  the  king,  "  my  son  will  pass  the  night  with 
me,  his  bed  and  clothes  being  here."  Same  silence.  After 
supper  the  king  again  insisted  on  his  desire  to  see  his  family. 
They  answered  that  he  must  await  the  decision  of  the  Con- 
vention. I  then  gave  out  what  was  necessary  for  the  young 
prince's  bedtime. 

That  evening,  while  I  was  undressing  the  king,  he  said : 
"  I  was  very  far  from  expecting  the  questions  that  were  put 
to  me."  He  went  to  bed  tranquilly.  The  decree  of  the 
Commime  relating  to  my  removal  during  the  night  was  not 
executed ;  it  would  have  been  too  troublesome  to  the  muni- 
cipals to  have  fetched  me  every  time  the  king  needed  me. 

The  next  day,  12th,  the  king  no  sooner  saw  the  municipals 
than  he  asked  if  a  decision  had  been  made  on  his  request  to 
see  his  family.  They  told  him  they  were  still  awaiting 
orders.  The  king  commanded  me  to  have  the  young  prince's 
bed  taken  up  to  the  queen's  room,  where  he  had  passed  the 
night  on  one  of  her  mattresses.     I  begged  His  Majesty  to 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  173 

wait  for  the  decision  of  the  Convention.  "  I  do  not  expect 
any  justice,  any  consideration,"  replied  the  king,  "  but  I  will 
wait." 

The  same  day  a  deputation  of  four  members  of  the  Con- 
vention brought  to  the  king  a  decree  authorizing  him  to 
obtain  counsel.  He  declared  that  he  chose  M.  Target,  and 
failing  him,  M.  Tronchet,  or  both  of  them  if  the  National 
Convention  consented.  The  deputies  made  the  king  sign 
his  request,  and  signed  it  themselves  after  him.  The  king 
added  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  furnish  him  with  paper, 
pens,  and  ink. 

On  the  13th,  in  the  morning,  the  same  deputation  returned 
and  told  the  king  that  M.  Target  refused  to  be  his  counsel ; 
that  M.  Tronchet  had  been  sent  for  and  would  doubtless  ap- 
pear during  the  day.  They  also  read  to  him  several  letters  ad- 
dressed to  tlie  Convention  by  MM.  Sourdat,  Huet-Guillaume, 
and  Lamoignon  de  Malesherbes,  formerly  president  of  the 
cour  des  aides  and  afterwards  minister  of  the  king's  house. 
Malesherbes'  letter  was  as  follows :  — • 

Paris,  December  11,  1792. 

Citizen  Peesident,  —  I  do  not  know  whether  the  Conven- 
tion will  give  Louis  XVI.  counsel  to  defend  him,  or  whether  it 
will  leave  the  selection  to  him.  In  tlie  latter  case,  I  desire 
that  Louis  XVI.  should  know  that  if  he  chooses  me  for  that 
function  I  am  ready  to  devote  myself  to  it.  I  do  not  ask 
you  to  lay  my  offer  before  the  Convention,  because  I  am  far 
from  thinking  myself  of  enough  importance  to  occupy  its 
time ;  but  I  have  twice  been  called  to  the  counsel  of  him  who 
was  once  my  master,  in  days  wlien  every  one  was  ambitious 
of  that  function ;  I  owe  him  the  same  service  when  that 
function  is  one  which  many  persons  would  think  dangerous. 
If  I  knew  any  possible  means  of  letting  him  Icnow  my  in- 


174  MADAME   f<:LISABETII   DE   FIIANCE.  [chap.  ii. 

clinations,  I  would  not  take  Uu;  liberty  of  addressing  you. 

I  think  that  in  the  position  you  occupy,  you  will  have  better 

means  than  any  one  to  convey  to  him  this  suggestion.     I  am, 

with  respect,  etc., 

Lamoignon  de  Malesherbes. 

His  Majesty  replied  as  follows  to  the  deputation:  "I 
am  sensible  of  the  ofifers  that  so  many  persons  have  made, 
asking  to  serve  me  as  counsel,  and  I  beg  you  to  express  to 
them  my  gratitude.  I  accept  IM.  de  ]\Ialesherbes  as  my 
counsel ;  if  ]M.  Trouchet  cannot  lend  me  his  services,  I  will 
consult  M.  de  Malesherbes  and  choose  some  one  to  1111  his 
place." 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVL  175 


CHAPTEK  III. 

The  King's  Trial  —  His  "Will  —  The  Decree  of  the  Convention  con- 
demning the  King  to  Death  —  Last  Meeting  with  his  Family  —  Leaves 
tlie  Temple  for  his  Execution. 

December  14,  M.  Tronchet  had,  as  the  decree  permitted, 
a  conference  with  His  Majesty.  The  same  day  M.  de  Male- 
sherbes  was  brought  to  the  Tower.  The  king  ran  forward  to 
meet  that  respected  old  man,  whom  he  tenderly  pressed  in 
his  arms.  The  former  minister  burst  into  tears  on  seeing 
his  master,  whether  because  he  recalled  the  past  years  of  his 
reign,  or,  more  probably,  because  he  faced  at  that  moment  a 
virtuous  man  in  the  grasp  of  misfortune.^ 

As  the  king  had  permission  to  confer  with  his  counsel  in 
private,  I  closed  the  door  of  his  room  that  he  might  speak 
more  freely  with  M.  de  Malesherbes.  A  municipal  blamed 
me,  ordered  the  door  to  be  opened,  and  forbade  me  to  shut  it 
again ;  I  opened  the  door,  but  the  king  was  already  in  the 
tourelle. 

On  the  15th,  the  king  received  the  reply  regarding  his 
family,  which  was,  in  substance,  as  follows :  the  queen 
and  Madame  Elisabeth  could  not  communicate  with  the  king 
during  the  course  of  his  trial ;  his  children  might  go  to  him 
if  he  desired  it,  but  on  condition  that  they  should  not  see 
their  mother  or  their  aunt  until  the  trial  was  over.  As  soon 
as  it  was  possible  to  speak  to  the  king  freely,  I  asked  his 
orders.  "  You  see,"  he  said,  "  the  cruel  alternative  in  which 
they  place  me ;  I  caimot  resolve  to  have  my  cliildren  with 

1  Lamoignon  de  Malesherbes,  aged  73,  was  guillotined  just  before  the 
9th  thermidor  (July  27,  1704),  the  end  of  tiie  Ueign  of  Terror.  —  Tu. 


176  MADAME   feLISARETII   DE   FRANCE.         [niAi-.  in. 

me;  as  for  my  (lau«j;h(or,  it  is  impossible;  as  for  my  son,  I 
feel  the  grief  it  would  occasion  to  the  ([ucen  ;  I  inust  consent  to 
this  fresh  sacrifice."  His  Majesty  then  ordered  me  for  the 
second  time  to  have  tlie  dauphin's  bed  sent  up  to  the  ([ueen's 
room,  which  1  tliil  immediately.  I  kept  his  linen  and  liis 
clothes,  and  every  second  day  I  sent  up  what  was  necessary 
as  agreed  upon  with  ^ladame  Elisabeth. 

On  the  IGth,  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  came  another  depu- 
tation of  four  members  of  the  Convention,  accompanied  by  a 
secretar}-,  a  sheriff,  and  an  officer  of  the  Gardes.  They  brought 
the  king  his  arraignment,  and  certain  documents  on  which 
the  accusations  were  based ;  most  of  them  found  at  the 
Tuileries  in  a  secret  closet  of  His  Majesty's  apartment, 
called  by  the  minister  Eoland  "  the  iron  closet," 

The  reading  of  these  documents,  one  hundred  and  seven 
in  all,  lasted  from  four  o'clock  till  midnight ;  all  were  read 
to  and  signed  by  the  king,  and  copies  of  each  were  left  in 
his  hands.  The  king  was  seated  at  a  large  table ;  M.  Tron- 
chet  beside  him,  the  deputies  opposite.  His  Majesty  inter- 
rupted the  long  session  by  asking  the  deputies  if  they  would 
sup ;  they  accepted,  and  I  served  them  a  cold  cliicken  and 
some  fruit  in  the  dining-room.  M.  Tronchet  would  take 
nothing,  and  remained  alone  with  the  king  in  his  room. 

A  municipal,  named  ]\Ierceraut,  then  a  stone-cutter  and 
lately  president  of  the  Commune  of  Paris,  though  a  porter 
of  sedan  chairs  at  Versailles  before  the  Eevolution,  was  on 
guard  that  day  in  the  Tower  for  the  first  time.  He  wore 
his  working-clothes  in  tatters,  with  a  very  old  round  hat,  a 
leather  apron,  and  liis  three-coloured  scarf.  The  man  affected 
to  stretch  himself  out  in  an  arm-chair  beside  the  king,  who 
was  in  a  common  chair;  he  thee'd  and  thou'd,  with  his  hat 
on  his  head,  all  who  spoke  to  him.  The  members  of  the 
Convention  were  amazed,  and  while  they  supped,  one  of  them 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVI.  177 

asked  me  several  questions  as  to  how  the  hing  was  treated. 
I  was  about  to  answer  when  a  commissioner  told  the  con- 
ventional it  was  forbidden  to  speak  to  me,  and  that  they 
would  give  him  in  the  council-chamber  all  the  details  he 
could  require.  The  deputy,  fearing  no  doubt  to  compromise 
himself,  said  no  more. 

Among  the  bundles  of  documents  were  plans  for  the  Con- 
stitution, annotated  by  the  king's  own  hand,  sometimes  in 
ink,  sometimes  in  pencil.  There  were  also  police  registers 
iu  which  were  denunciations  made  and  signed  by  the  king's 
own  servants ;  this  ingratitude  seemed  to  affect  him  much ; 
these  accusers  rendered  an  account  of  what  occurred  in  the 
king's  room  and  the  queen's  room  at  the  Tuileries  in  order 
to  give  a  more  truthful  air  to  their  calumnies. 

From  the  14th  to  the  26th  of  December,  the  king  saw 
his  counsel  regidarly.  They  came  at  five  in  the  evening 
and  rethed  at  nine.  M.  de  Sfeze  was  added  to  them.  Every 
morning  M.  de  Malesherbes  brought  the  newspapers  to  his 
Majesty  with  the  printed  opinions  of  the  deputies  relating 
to  his  trial.  He  prepared  the  work  for  the  evening,  and  re- 
mained with  the  king  for  one  or  two  hours.  His  Majesty 
deigned  to  sometimes  let  me  read  those  opinions ;  once  he 
asked :  "  Wliat  do  you  think  of  that  man's  opinion  ? "  adding, 
"  I  have  learned  how  far  the  malignancy  of  men  can  go ;  I 
did  not  believe  that  there  were  such  men."  His  Majesty 
never  went  to  bed  without  reading  all  the  different  papers, 
and,  in  order  not  to  compromise  M.  de  Malesherbes,  he 
took  the  precaution  to  burn  them  himself  in  the  stove 
in  his  cabinet. 

By  this  time  I  had  found  a  favourable  moment  to  speak 
to  Turgy  and  send  news  to  Madame  Elisabeth  about  the 
king.  The  next  day  he  told  me  that  in  giving  liini  her 
napkin  after  dinner  she  had  slipped  in  a  little  note  in  pin- 


17S  MAnAMi:    KLlSAnr/ni    DK    rUANCK.  [vuxr.  III. 

pricks  asking  tlie  kiufj  to  write  her  a  line  himself.  The 
day  after,  1  ti)ok  the  note  to  Turgy,  who  brought  me  the 
answer  inside  a  ball  of  cotton,  which  he  threw  on  my  bed 
as  he  passed  it.  His  Majesty  took  gi-eat  comfort  in  the 
success  of  this  means  of  communicating  with  his  famil}-. 
The  wax-candles  which  the  commissioners  gave  me  came 
tied  up  with  twine  in  bundles.  As  soon  as  I  had  twine 
enough  I  told  the  king  that  we  could  give  greater  activity 
than  before  to  the  correspondence,  by  sending  up  a  part  of 
it  to  Madame  Elisabeth  whose  room  was  directly  over  mine, 
with  its  window  perpendicularly  above  that  of  a  little  corri- 
dor upon  which  my  room  opened.  During  the  night  the 
princess  could  attach  letters  to  the  string  and  lower  them 
down  to  the  passage  window.  The  same  means  would  serve  to 
send  answers  to  the  princess,  also  paper  and  ink,  of  which  she 
was  deprived.  "  That  is  a  good  project,"  the  king  said  to  me ; 
"we  will  use  it  if  the  other  means  become  impracticable." 
In  point  of  fact,  he  soon  used  it  exclusively.  He  always 
waited  till  eight  in  the  evening ;  I  then  shut  the  door  of  my 
room  and  that  of  the  corridor,  and  went  to  talk  to  the  com- 
missioners or  get  them  to  play  cards,  which  diverted  their 
attention. 

After  his  separation  from  his  family  the  king  refused  to 
go  into  the  garden,  and  when  it  was  proposed  to  him  to  do 
so  he  answered :  "  I  cannot  resolve  to  go  out  alone ;  walking 
was  only  agreeable  to  me  when  I  enjoyed  it  with  my  family." 
But,  in  spite  of  being  thus  parted  from  objects  so  dear  to  his 
heart,  no  complaints  or  murmurs  escaped  him ;  he  had  al- 
ready pardoned  his  oppressors.  Each  day  he  gathered  in 
his 'reading-room  the  strength  that  maintained  his  courage; 
when  he  left  it  he  entered  the  detaUs  of  a  life  always  uni- 
form yet  embellished  by  him  with  little  traits  of  kindness. 
He  deigned  to  treat  me  as  if  I  were  more  than  his  servant ; 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   LOUIS   XVI.  179 

he  treated  the  municipals  who  guarded  his  person  as  if  he 
had  no  reason  to  complain  of  them ;  he  talked  to  them,  as 
formerly  with  his  subjects,  on  matters  relating  to  their  condi- 
tion, their  family,  their  children,  the  advantages  and  duties 
of  their  profession.  Those  who  listened  were  astonished  at  the 
accuracy  of  his  remarks,  at  the  variety  of  his  knowledge,  and 
at  the  manner  in  which  it  was  aU  classified  in  his  memory. 
His  conversations  did  not  have  as  their  object  the  distraction 
of  his  mind  from  his  troubles ;  his  sensibility  was  keen  and 
deep,  but  his  resignation  rose  superior  to  his  sorrows. 

On  the  19th  of  December  the  king  said  to  me  while  din- 
ing: "Fourteen  years  ago  you  got  up  earlier  than  you  did 
to-day."  I  understood  His  Majesty  at  once.  "  That  was  the 
day  my  daughter  was  born,"  he  continued  tenderly,  "and 
to-day,  her  birthday,  I  am  deprived  of  seeing  her  ! "  A  few 
tears  rolled  from  his  eyes,  and  a  respectful  silence  reigned 
for  a  moment. 

The  day  for  his  second  appearance  before  the  bar  of  the 
Convention  was  approaching.  He  had  not  been  able  to 
shave  since  they  took  away  his  razors;  he  suffered  much 
in  consequence,  and  was  obliged  to  bathe  his  face  in  cold 
water  several  times  a  day.  He  asked  me  for  scissors  or  a 
razor;  but  he  was  not  willing  to  speak  to  the  municipals 
about  it  himself.  I  took  the  liberty  of  remarking  to  him 
that  if  he  appeared  in  his  present  condition  before  the  Con- 
vention the  people  would  see  with  what  barbarity  the  coun- 
cil of  the  Commune  had  acted.  "  I  ought  not  to  try  to 
interest  persons  in  that  way  in  my  fate,"  replied  the  king; 
"  I  will  address  the  commissioners."  The  following  day  the 
Commune  decided  to  return  the  razors  to  the  king,  but  for 
use  only  in  presence  of  two  municipals.^ 

During  the  three  days  that  preceded  Christmas,  1792,  the 

^  See  Appendix  III. 


180  MAPAME   f:LISAnETIl    DE   FKANCK.         [ciiAr.  iii. 

king  wrote  iiiDre  than  usual.  There  was  then  a  project  of 
making  liim  stay  at  the  Fouillants  for  two  or  three  days  iii 
order  that  he  might  he  trietl  continuously.  They  had  even 
given  me  orders  to  prepare  to  follow  him  and  to  get  ready 
all  that  he  might  need ;  but  that  plan  was  changed. 

It  was  on  Christmas  Day  that  the  king  wrote  his  will. 
I  read  it  and  copied  it  at  tlie  time  it  was  handed  over  to  the 
council  of  the  Temple ;  it  was  written  entirely  by  the  king's 
own  hand,  with  a  few  erasures.  I  think  I  ought  to  give 
here  this  monument,  already  celebrated,  of  his  innocence 
and  his  piety :  — 

THE   LAST    WILL    AND    TESTAMENT    OF    LOUIS    XVI.,   KING    OF 

FRANCE. 

In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Spirit.  This  day,  twenty-tifth  of  December,  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  ninety-two,  I,  Louis,  sixteenth  of  the 
name.  King  of  France,  being  for  the  last  four  months  shut 
up  with  my  family  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple  by  those 
who  were  my  subjects,  and  deprived  of  all  communication 
whatsoever  since  the  eleventh  of  the  present  month  with  my 
fanuly ;  involved  moreover  in  a  trial  of  which  it  is  impos- 
sible to  foresee  the  issue,  because  of  the  passions  of  men, 
and  for  which  no  pretext  or  means  can  be  found  in  existing 
laws ;  having  God  as  the  sole  witness  of  my  thoughts  and 
the  only  being  to  whom  I  can  address  myself,  I  here  declare 
in  his  presence  my  last  will  and  sentiments. 

I  leave  my  soul  to  God,  my  Creator ;  I  pray  him  to  re- 
ceive it  in  his  mercy ;  not  to  judge  it  according  to  its  own 
merits,  but  by  those  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  offered 
himself  a  sacrifice  to  God,  his  Father,  for  us  men,  however 
unworthy  we  may  be,  and  I  first  of  any. 


1792]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF   LOUIS  XVI.  181 

I  die  in  the  union  of  our  Holy  Mother,  the  Catholic, 
Apostolical,  and  Eoman  Church,  which  derives  its  powers  by 
an  uninterrupted  succession  from  Saint  Peter  to  whom  Jesus 
Christ  confided  them. 

I  believe  firmly  and  confess  all  that  is  contained  in  the 
symbol  and  the  commandments  of  God  and  of  the  Church, 
the  sacraments  and  the  mysteries  such  as  the  Catholic 
Church  teaches  and  has  always  taught  them.  I  have  never 
pretended  to  make  myself  a  judge  of  the  different  manners 
of  explaining  the  dogmas  that  rend  the  Church  of  Jesus 
Christ;  but  1  have  relied,  and  shall  always  rely,  if  God 
gives  me  life,  on  the  decisions  which  the  ecclesiastical  su- 
periors of  the  holy  Catholic  Church  give  and  will  give  in 
conformity  with  the  discipline  of  the  Church,  followed  since 
Jesus  Christ. 

I  pity  with  all  my  heart  our  brothers  who  may  be  in 
error ;  but  I  do  not  pretend  to  judge  them,  and  I  do  not  love 
them,  one  and  all,  less  in  Jesus  Christ,  following  what 
Christian  charity  teaches. 

I  pray  God  to  forgive  me  all  my  sins ;  I  have  scrupulously 
tried  to  know  them,  to  detest  them,  and  to  humiliate  my- 
self in  his  presence.  Not  being  able  to  have  the  ministry 
of  a  Catholic  priest,  I  pray  God  to  receive  the  confession 
which  I  have  made  to  him,  and,  especially,  the  deep  repen- 
tance which  I  feel  for  having  put  my  name  (though  against 
my  will)  to  acts  which  may  have  been  contrary  to  tlic  dis- 
cipline and  the  belief  of  the  Catliolic  Church,  to  which  I 
have  always  remained  sincerely  united  in  heart.  I  pray 
God  to  receive  the  firm  resolution  in  whicli  I  am  to  employ, 
if  he  grants  me  life,  as  soon  as  I  can,  the  ministry  of  a 
Catholic  priest  to  confess  all  my  sins  and  to  receive  the 
sacrament  of  repentance. 

I  beg  all  those  whom  I  may  have  injured  througli  inad- 


1S2  MADAMK    fCUSARETII    DE    IKANCE.  [chai-.  in. 

veiteiico  (fi>r  I  do  not  remember  to  have  knowingly  injured 
any  one),  and  those  to  whom  I  may  have  set  a  bad  example 
or  caused  offence,  to  forgive  me  the  %vTong  they  may  think  that 
I  have  done  them ;  I  beg  all  those  who  have  charity  to  unite 
their  prayers  to  mine  to  obtam  of  God  the  pardon  of  my  sins. 

I  pardon  with  all  my  lieart  those  who  have  made  them- 
selves my  enemies  without  my  having  given  them  any  cause, 
and  I  pray  God  to  pardon  them,  as  well  as  those  who,  from 
false  zeal  or  misdirected  zeal,  have  done  me  much  harm. 

I  commend  to  God  my  wife  and  my  children,  my  sister, 
my  aunts,  my  brothers,  and  all  those  who  are  attached  to 
me  by  ties  of  blood,  or  by  any  other  manner  whatsoever. 
I  pray  God  especially  to  cast  the  eyes  of  his  mercy  on  my 
wife,  my  children,  and  my  sister,  who  have  suffered  so  long 
with  me ;  to  support  them  by  his  grace  if  they  lose  me,  and 
for  as  long  as  they  remain  in  this  perishable  world. 

I  commend  my  children  to  my  wife ;  I  have  never  doubted 
her  maternal  tenderness  for  them ;  I  entreat  her,  above  all, 
to  make  good  Christians  and  honest  beings  of  them,  to  teach 
them  to  regard  the  grandeurs  of  this  world  (if  they  are 
condemned  to  experience  them)  as  dangerous  and  perish- 
able benefits,  and  to  turn  their  eyes  towards  the  only  solid 
and  durable  glory  of  eternity.  I  beg  my  sister  to  continue 
her  tenderness  to  my  children,  and  to  stand  to  them  in  place 
of  a  mother  should  they  have  the  misfortune  to  lose  theirs. 

I  beg  my  wife  to  forgive  me  for  all  the  ills  she  has 
suffered  for  me,  and  the  griefs  I  may  have  caused  her  in  the 
course  of  our  union;  just  as  she  may  be  sure  that  I  keep 
nothing  against  her  should  she  think  she  has  anything  for 
which  to  blame  herself. 

I  request  very  earnestly  of  my  children,  after  what  they 
owe  to  God  who  comes  before  all,  to  remain  united  with  each 
other,  submissive  and  obedient  to  their  mother  and  grateful 


1792J  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  183 

for  all  the  care  and  trouble  she  gives  herself  for  them,  and 
in  memory  of  me.  I  beg  them  to  regard  my  sister  as  a 
second  mother. 

I  beg  my  son,  if  he  has  the  misfortmie  to  become  king,  to 
reflect  that  he  owes  himself  wholly  to  the  welfare  of  his  co- 
citizens  ;  that  he  ought  to  forget  all  hatred  and  all  resent- 
ment, especially  that  which  relates  to  the  misfortunes  and 
griefs  that  I  have  borne ;  that  he  cannot  make  the  happiness 
of  the  people  except  by  reigning  according  to  the  laws  ;  but, 
at  the  same  time,  that  a  king  cannot  make  the  laws  respected 
and  do  the  good  which  is  in  his  heart  to  do  unless  he  has 
the  necessary  authority ;  otherwise,  being  fettered  in  his 
operations  and  inspiring  no  respect,  he  is  more  harmful  than 
useful. 

I  commend  to  my  son  to  take  care  of  all  the  persons  who 
have  been  attached  to  me,  so  far  as  the  circumstances  in 
which  he  may  be  placed  wUl  give  him  the  ability ;  to  re- 
member that  this  is  a  sacred  debt  contracted  by  me  towards 
the  children  and  relatives  of  those  who  have  perished  for 
me,  and  towards  those  who  are  unfortunate  for  my  sake. 

I  know  that  there  are  several  persons  among  those  who 
were  attached  to  me  who  have  not  acted  towards  me  as  they 
should  have  done,  and  have  even  shown  me  ingratitude ;  but 
I  pardon  them  (often  in  moments  of  trouble  and  excitement 
persons  are  not  masters  of  themselves),  and  I  beg  my  son, 
should  the  occasion  come  to  him,  to  remember  only  their 
misfortunes. 

I  wish  that  I  could  manifest  here  my  gratitude  to  those 
who  have  shown  me  a  veritable  and  disinterested  attach- 
ment ;  if,  on  the  one  hand,  I  have  keenly  felt  the  ingratitude 
and  disloyalty  of  persons  to  whom  I  had  never  shown  any- 
thing but  kindness  (to  them,  or  their  relatives,  or  to  the 
friends  of  both),  T  have  had  the  consolation  of  seeing  the 


184  MADAMK    feLISABiyril    I)K    1-KANCE.  [chap.  in. 

gratuitous  attai-hmcnt  and  interest  that  many  persons  have 
shown  me ;  1  beg  those  persons  to  recei\'e  my  thanks.  In 
the  condition  in  which  things  now  are,  I  should  fear  to  com- 
promise them  if  I  spoke  more  explicitly,  ])ut  I  specially 
recjuest  my  son  to  seek  occasions  of  being  able  to  recognize 
them. 

Nevertheless,  I  think  I  should  calumniate  the  sentiments 
of  the  nation  if  I  did  not  commend  openly  to  my  son 
^IM.  de  ChamLUy  and  Hue,  whose  true  attachment  to  me 
led  them  to  shut  themselves  up  in  this  sad  place,  and  who 
came  so  near  being  also  the  unfortunate  victims  of  it.  I  like- 
wise recommend  to  him  Cldry,  whose  care  I  have  every  reason 
to  praise  since  he  has  been  with  me ;  as  it  is  he  who  will  re- 
main with  me  to  the  end,  I  beg  the  gentlemen  of  the  Commime 
to  give  him  my  clothes,  my  books,  my  watch,  my  purse,  and 
whatever  little  property  has  been  deposited  with  the  coun- 
clI  of  the  Commune. 

I  pardon  once  more,  very  willingly,  those  who  guard  me 
for  the  Ql-treatment  and  the  annoyances  they  have  thought 
it  their  duty  to  practice  towards  me.  I  have  met  with  some 
compassionate  and  feeling  souls  ;  may  they  enjoy  in  then- 
hearts  the  tranquillity  that  their  way  of  thinking  will  give 
them. 

I  beg  MM.  de  Malesherbes,  Tronchet,  and  de  Sfeze  to 
receive  here  my  thanks  and  the  expression  of  my  feelings  for 
the  cares  and  trouble  they  have  taken  for  me. 

I  end  by  declaring  before  God,  and  about  to  appear  before 
him,  that  I  do  not  reproach  myself  with  any  of  the  crimes 
laid  to  my  charge. 

Done,  in  duplicate,  at  the  Tower  of  the  Temple,  the 
twenty-fifth  day  of  December,  one  thousand,  seven  hundred 
and  ninety-two. 

Louis. 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  185 

On  the  26th  of  December,  the  kmg  was  taken  for  the 
second  time  before  the  bar  of  the  Convention.  I  had  warned 
the  queen,  lest  the  noise  of  the  drums  and  the  movements  of 
the  troops  should  frighten  her.  His  Majesty  started  at  ten 
in  the  morning  and  returned  at  five  in  the  afternoon.  His 
counsel  came  that  evening  just  as  the  king  was  finishing 
dinner ;  he  asked  them  to  take  some  refreshment ;  M.  de  Seze 
was  the  only  one  who  accepted  the  offer.  The  kuig  thanked 
him  for  the  pains  he  had  taken  in  making  his  speech. 

The  next  day  His  Majesty  deigned  to  give  me  himself 
his  printed  defence,  after  asking  the  commissioners  if  he 
could  do  so  without  impropriety.  Commissioner  Vincent,  a 
contractor  for  buildings,  who  had  done  the  royal  family  all 
the  services  in  his  power,  undertook  to  carry  a  copy  secretly 
to  the  queen.  He  took  advantage  of  the  moment  when  the 
king  thanked  him  for  this  little  service  to  ask  for  the  gift  of 
somethmg  that  had  belonged  to  him.  His  Majesty  unfastened 
his  cravat  and  gave  it  to  him.  At  another  time  he  gave  his 
gloves  to  a  municipal,  who  desired  to  have  them  from  the 
same  motive.  Even  to  the  eyes  of  several  of  his  guards,  his 
remains  were  already  sacred. 

On  the  1st  of  January,  1793,  I  went  to  the  bedside  of  the 
king  and  asked  him  in  a  low  voice  to  be  allowed  to  offer  my 
earnest  wishes  for  the  end  of  his  troubles.  "  I  receive  those 
wishes,"  he  said  affectionately,  holding  out  his  hand ,  which 
I  kissed  and  wet  with  my  tears.  As  soon  as  he  rose,  he 
begged  a  municipal  to  go  from  him  to  inquhe  news  of  his 
family  and  give  them  his  wishes  for  the  new  year.  The 
municipals  were  much  moved  by  the  tone  m  which  these 
words,  so  heart-rending  in  view  of  the  king's  situation,  were 
said.  "  Why,"  said  one  of  them  to  me  after  the  king  had 
gone  into  his  cabinet,  "  why  does  he  not  ask  to  see  his 
family  ?     Now  that  the  examinations  are  over  there  would 


186  MADAME  f:LISABETH  DE  FRANCE.         [ciiai-.  hi. 

bo  no  difficulty ;  but  it  is  to  the  Conventiou  that  he  ought  to 
make  the  request."  The  municipal  who  had  gone  to  see  the 
queen  returned  and  announced  to  the  kmg  that  his  family 
thanked  him  for  his  good  wishes  and  sent  him  their  own. 
"  \niat  a  New-Year's  day ! "  exclaimed  His  Majesty. 

That  same  evening  I  took  the  liberty  of  telling  him  I  was 
almost  certain  of  the  consent  of  the  Convention  if  he  asked 
to  be  permitted  to  see  his  family.  "  In  a  few  days,"  he 
replied,  "  they  will  not  refuse  me  that  consolation ;  I  must 
wait." 

The  nearer  the  day  for  the  verdict  approached,  —  if  one 
can  use  that  term  [Jugement]  for  the  proceedings  the  king 
was  made  to  undergo,  —  the  more  my  fears  and  anguish  in- 
creased. I  asked  a  hundred  questions  of  the  municipals, 
and  everything  I  heard  added  to  my  terror.  My  wife  came 
to  see  me  every  week,  and  gave  me  an  exact  account  of  what 
was  going  on  in  Paris.  Public  opinion  seemed  to  be  still 
favourable  to  the  king ;  it  was  shown  in  a  startling  way  at 
the  Theatre  Franqais  and  at  the  Vaudeville.  At  the  first, 
they  were  playing  "L'Ami  des  Lois;"  all  the  allusions  to 
the  trial  of  the  king  were  seized  and  applauded  vehemently. 
At  the  Vaudeville,  one  of  the  personages  in  "La  Chaste 
Suzanne "  says  to  the  two  old  men,  "  How  can  you  be 
accusers  and  judges  both  ? "  The  audience  insisted  on  the 
repetition  of  that  speech  many  times.  I  gave  the  king  a 
copy  of  "  L'Ami  des  Lois."  I  often  told  him,  and  I  also 
almost  brought  myself  to  believe  it,  that  the  members  of  the 
Convention,  being  opposed  to  one  another,  could  pronoimce 
only  for  the  penalty  of  imprisonment  or  transportation. 
"May  they  have  that  moderation  for  my  family,"  said  the 
king ;  "  it  is  only  for  them  that  I  fear." 

Certain  persons  sent  me  word  through  my  wife  that  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money,  deposited  with  M.  Pariseau,  editor 


line  viqee  Le  L)i.i 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS   XVI.  187 

of  the  "  Feuille  du  jour,"  was  at  the  king's  disposal ;  they 
requested  me  to  ask  his  orders  and  say  that  the  money  would 
be  paid  to  M.  de  Malesherbes  if  the  king  wished  it.  "  Thank 
those  persons  much,  for  me,"  he  replied.  "  I  cannot  accept 
their  generous  offer,  it  would  be  to  expose  them."  I  begged 
him  at  least  to  mention  the  matter  to  M.  de  Malesherbes, 
and  he  promised  to  do  so. 

The  correspondence  between  Their  Majesties  continued. 
The  king,  informed  of  Madame  Eoyale's  illness,  was  very 
uneasy  for  some  days.  The  queen,  after  much  entreaty, 
obtained  permission  for  M.  Brunier,  her  children's  physician, 
to  come  to  the  Temple ;  this  seemed  to  tranquillize  him. 

On  the  16th  of  January,  at  six  in  the  evening,  four  muni- 
cipals entered  the  king's  chamber  and  read  to  him  a  decree 
of  the  Commune,  the  substance  of  which  was  "  that  he  be 
guarded  night  and  day  by  four  municipals;  two  of  whom 
were  to  pass  the  night  beside  his  bed."  The  king  asked  if 
his  sentence  had  been  pronounced.  One  of  them  (Du 
Eoure)  began  by  sitting  down  in  the  arm-chair  of  the  king, 
who  was  standing ;  he  answered  that  he  did  not  trouble  him- 
self to  know  what  went  on  in  the  Convention,  but  he  had 
heard  some  one  say  they  were  still  calling  the  votes. 

A  few  moments  later  M.  de  Malesherbes  arrived  and  told 
the  king  that  the  call  of  the  votes  [Vappel  nominal']  was 
not  yet  ended.  While  he  was  there  the  chimney  of  a  room 
in  the  palace  of  the  Temple  took  fire.  A  considerable  crowd 
of  people  entered  the  courtyard.  A  commissioner  came  in 
alarm  to  tell  M.  de  Malesherbes  that  he  must  go  away  im- 
mediately, M.  de  Malesherbes  withdrew,  after  promising  the 
king  he  would  return  to  ioform  him  of  his  sentence.  "  Why 
are  you  so  alarmed  ? "  I  asked  the  commissioner.  "They  have 
set  fire  to  the  Temple/'  he  said,  "  in  order  to  rescue  Capet  in 

the  tumult ;  but  I  have  surrounded  the  walls  with  a  strong 
13  Mem.  Vor.  9 


ISS  MADAME    f'.MSAnF/ni   DE    FKANCE.  [(  map.  IIX. 

j^mnl."  The  lire  was  sodii  out,  auil  it  was  shown  to  have 
been  a  more  aeeident. 

Thursday,  Jauuaiy  17th,  M.  de  Malesherbes  came  at  nine 
in  the  morning ;  I  went  to  meet  him.  "  All  is  lost,"  he  said ; 
"the  king  is  condemned  to  death."  The  king,  who  saw 
him  coming,  rose  to  receive  him.  The  minister  threw  him- 
self at  his  feet,  his  sobs  choked  him,  and  it  was  some  time 
before  he  could  speak.  The  king  raised  him  and  pressed 
him  against  his  bosom  with  afifection.  M.  de  Malesherbes 
told  him  of  his  condemnation  to  death ;  the  king  made  no 
movement  that  showed  either  surprise  or  emotion ;  he  seemed 
to  be  affected  only  by  the  grief  of  the  old  man,  and  tried  to 
comfort  him. 

M.  de  Malesherbes  gave  an  account  to  the  king  of  the 
voting.  Denouncers,  relatives,  personal  enemies,  laymen, 
ecclesiastics,  absent  deputies,  all  had  voted,  and,  in  spite  of 
this  violation  of  the  forms,  those  who  had  voted  for  death  — 
some  as  a  political  measure,  others  on  pretence  that  the  king 
was  guilty  —  carried  it  by  a  majority  of  only  five  votes.  Sev- 
eral deputies  voted  for  death  with  respite  [sursis].  A  second 
vote  was  taken  on  this  latter  point,  and  it  is  to  be  presumed 
that  the  votes  of  those  who  wished  to  retard  the  commission 
of  the  regicide,  joined  to  the  votes  of  those  who  were  against 
the  death  penalty,  would  have  formed  a  majority.  But,  at 
the  doors  of  the  Convention,  assassins  devoted  to  the  Due 
d'Orl^ans  and  to  the  deputation  of  the  Paris  Commune, 
terrified  by  their  cries  and  threatened  with  their  knives  who- 
ever refused  to  listen  to  them ;  and  whether  it  was  stupor, 
indifference,  or  fear,  no  one  dared  to  undertake  anything 
further  to  save  the  king. 

His  Majesty  obtained  permission  to  see  M.  de  Malesherbes 
in  private.  He  took  him  into  his  cabinet,  shut  the  door,  and 
was  alone  with  him  for  about  an  hour.     His  Majesty  then 


1793]  THE  CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVI.  189 

conducted  him  to  the  entrance  door,  and  asked  him  to  come 
early  that  evening,  and  not  to  abandon  him  in  his  last  mo- 
ments. "  The  sorrow  of  that  good  old  man  has  deeply  af- 
fected me,"  said  the  king,  returning  to  the  room  where  I 
waited  for  him. 

From  the  moment  of  M.  de  Malesherhes'  entrance  a  great 
trembling  had  seized  me ;  nevertheless  I  prepared  what  was 
necessary  for  the  king  to  shave  himself.  He  himself  put  the 
soap  on  his  face,  standing  before  me  while  I  held  the  basin. 
Forced  to  control  my  grief,  I  had  not  yet  dared  to  raise  my 
eyes  to  my  unfortunate  master ;  by  chance  I  looked  at  him 
and  my  tears  flowed  in  spite  of  myself.  I  do  not  know  if 
the  state  in  which  I  was  reminded  the  king  of  his  position, 
but  a  sudden  paleness  overspread  his  face ;  his  nose  and  his 
ears  blanched  suddenly.  At  that  sight  my  knees  gave  way 
under  me ;  the  king,  who  noticed  my  fainting  state,  took  me 
by  both  hands,  pressed  them  hard,  and  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"  Come,  more  courage."  He  was  watched ;  a  mute  reply 
showed  him  my  affection ;  he  seemed  to  feel  it ;  his  face 
recovered  its  tone,  he  went  on  shaving  tranquilly,  and  then 
I  dressed  him. 

His  Majesty  remained  in  his  chamber  till  dinner-time 
reading  or  walking  up  and  down.  In  the  evening  I  saw  him 
go  towards  his  cabinet,  and  I  followed  him,  under  pretext 
that  he  might  need  my  services.  "  Have  you  read  the  report 
of  my  sentence  ? "  asked  the  king.  "  Ah,  Sire  !  "  1  said,  "  let 
us  hope  for  a  respite.  M.  de  Malesherhes  thinks  it  cannot 
be  refused."  "  I  seek  for  no  hope,"  replied  the  king ;  "  but  I 
am  much  grieved  that  M.  d'0rl(5ans,  my  relative,  should  liave 
voted  for  my  death.  Eead  that  list."  He  gave  nie  the  list 
of  the  call  of  the  House  {^appel  nominal]  which  he  lield  in 
his  hand.  "  The  public  are  murmuring  loudly,"  I  said  to 
him.    "  Dumouriez  is  in  Paris  ;  they  say  he  is  the  bearer  of 


190  MADAME  Elisabeth  de  fuance.       [chap.  m. 

a  request  fnuu  liis  army  against  the  tiial  lliat  has  just  taken 
place.  Tlie  ]teoj)le  revolt  against  the  infamous  conduct  of 
the  Due  d'Orlt^ans.  There  is  a  rumour  that  the  ambassadors 
of  the  foreign  Powers  are  to  assemble  and  go  before  the  Con- 
vention. They  say  that  the  members  are  in  fear  of  a  popular 
uprising."  "  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  it  took  place,"  said 
the  king ;  "  there  would  be  more  victims.  I  do  not  fear 
death,"  he  added,  "  but  I  cannot  contemplate  without  a  shud- 
der the  cruel  fate  that  I  leave  behind  me  for  my  family,  for 
the  c[ueen,  for  my  unfortunate  children!  —  and  those  faithful 
servants  who  never  abandoned  me,  those  old  men  who  have 
no  other  means  of  subsistence  than  the  modest  pensions  that 
I  gave  them,  who  will  help  them  ?  I  see  the  people  given 
over  to  anarchy,  becoming  the  victim  of  all  the  factions, 
crimes  succeeding  one  another,  perpetual  dissensions  rending 
France ! "  Then  after  a  short  silence :  "  0  my  God  !  is  that 
the  price  I  must  receive  for  all  my  sacrifices  ?  Did  I  not  do 
all  to  procure  the  happiness  of  Frenchmen  ? "  As  he  said 
those  words  he  clasped  my  hand.  Filled  with  a  sacred  re- 
spect I  watered  his  with  my  tears.  I  was  obliged  to  leave 
him  in  that  state. 

The  king  waited  vainly  all  that  evening  for  M.  de  Males- 
herbes.  At  night  he  asked  me  if  he  had  come.  I  had 
asked  the  same  question  of  the  commissioners,  and  they 
answered  no. 

Wednesday,  18th,  the  king,  hearing  nothing  of  M,  de 
Malesherbes,  became  very  uneasy.  An  old  "Mercure  de 
France  "  falling  into  his  hands,  he  there  read  a  riddle  which 
he  gave  me  to  guess.  I  tried  in  vain  to  make  it  out.  "  What ! 
you  cannot  find  it  out  ? "  he  said ;  •'  yet  it  is  very  applicable 
to  me  at  this  moment.  The  word  is  Sacrifice"  He  ordered 
me  to  look  in  the  library  for  the  volume  of  the  History  of 
England  that  contained  an  account  of  the  death  of  Charles  I. 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS   XVI.  191 

On  this  occasion,  I  discovered  that  the  king  had  read  two 
hundred  and  fifty  volumes  since  his  imprisonment  in  the 
Temple.  That  evening  I  took  the  liberty  of  saying  to  him 
that  he  could  not  be  deprived  of  his  counsel,  except  by  a 
decree  of  the  Convention,  and  that  he  ought  to  ask  for  their 
admission  to  the  Tower.  "  I  will  wait  till  to-morrow," 
replied  the  king. 

Saturday,  19  th,  at  nine  in  the  morning,  a  municipal  named 
Gobeau  entered,  a  paper  in  his  hand.  He  was  accompanied 
by  the  porter  of  the  Tower,  named  Mathey,  who  canied  an 
inkstand.  The  municipal  told  the  king  he  had  orders  to 
make  an  inventory  of  all  his  property  and  effects.  His 
Majesty  left  me  with  him  and  retired  into  the  tourelle. 
Then,  imder  pretence  of  the  inventory,  the  municipal  began 
to  rummage  with  the  most  minute  care,  to  be  certain,  he 
said,  that  no  weapon  or  dangerous  instrument  had  been 
hidden  in  the  king's  room.  Presently  nothing  was  left  to 
search  but  a  little  bureau  in  which  were  papers.  The  king 
was  obliged  to  come  and  open  all  the  drawers,  to  unfold 
and  show  every  paper  one  after  the  other.  There  were 
three  rolls  of  coin  at  the  back  of  one  drawer ;  they  wished 
to  examine  them.  "  That  money,"  said  the  king,  "  is  nofe 
mine;  it  belongs  to  M.  de  Malesherbes."  I  had  prepared  it 
to  retm-n  to  him.  The  three  rolls  contained  three  thousand 
francs  in  gold ;  on  the  paper  that  wrapped  each  roll  the 
king  had  written  with  his  own  hand, "  Belonging  to  ^M.  de 
Malesherbes." 

While  the  same  search  was  made  in  the  tourelle  the  king 
returned  to  his  chamber  and  wanted  to  warm  himself.  The 
porter,  Mathey,  was  at  that  moment  before  the  fire,  holding 
his  coat-tails  up  with  his  back  to  the  fire.  Tlie  king  could 
not  warm  himself  on  either  side  of  the  man,  and  tlie  in- 
solent porter  not   moving,  the   king  told  him  with  some 


102  MAT1AMK    f:LISARKTlI    DK    IRANCK.  [chap.  hi. 

nsixrity  to  stand  a  little  aside.  Malhey  withdrew,  and  the 
numicipals  went  (nit  sdou  after,  having  faik'd  in  their 
search. 

That  evening  the  king  told  tlie  commissioners  to  ask  the 
Commune  the  reason  why  his  counsel  were  denied  admission 
to  the  Tower,  saying  that  he  desired  at  least  to  consult 
with  M.  de  Malesherhes.  They  ]>romised  to  speak  of  it, 
but  one  of  them  said  they  were  forbidden  to  take  any  com- 
numication  from  the  king  to  the  coimcil  of  the  Comnnine 
unless  it  were  ^^Titten  and  signed  by  his  own  hand.  "  Then 
why,"  replied  the  king,  "  have  I  been  left  for  two  days  in 
ignorance  of  that  change  ? "  He  wrote  the  request  and 
gave  it  to  the  municipals ;  but  they  did  not  take  it  to  the 
Commune  until  the  next  day.  The  king  asked  to  see  his 
counsel  freely,  and  complained  of  the  decree  which  ordered 
the  municipals  to  keep  him  in  sight  day  and  night.  "  They 
ought  to  feel,"  he  wrote  to  the  Commune,  "  that  in  the  posi- 
tion I  am  in  it  is  very  painful  not  to  have  the  tranquillity 
necessar}'  to  enable  me  to  collect  myself." 

Sunday,  January  20,  the  king,  as  soon  as  he  rose,  in- 
quired of  the  municipals  if  they  had  taken  his  request  to 
the  Commune.  They  assured  him  that  they  had  taken  it 
immediately.  Towards  ten  o'clock  I  entered  the  king's 
room ;  he  said  to  me :  "  M.  de  Malesherbes  has  not  yet 
come."  "  Sire,"  I  replied,  "  I  have  just  learned  that  he  has 
been  here  several  times,  but  his  entrance  to  the  Tower  is 
always  refused.''  "  I  shall  know  the  reason  of  that  refusal," 
replied  the  king, "  when  the  Commune  decides  upon  my 
letter."  He  walked  about  his  room  and  read  and  wrote, 
occupying  himself  thus  the  whole  morning. 

Two  o'clock  had  just  struck  when  the  door  was  suddenly 
opened  to  admit  the  Executive  council.  Twelve  or  fifteen 
persons  came  in  at  once :  Garat,  minister  of  justice ;  Lebnin, 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS   XVI.  193 

minister  of  foreign  affairs  ;  Grouville,  secretary  of  the  coun- 
cil ;  the  president  and  the  prosecuting-syndic  of  the  depart- 
ment ;  the  mayor  and  public  prosecutor  of  the  Commune ;  the 
president  and  prosecuting  attorney  of  the  criminal  tribunal. 

Santerre,  who  advanced  before  the  others,  said  to  me: 
"  Announce  the  Executive  council."  The  king,  who  heard 
the  noise  of  the  arrival,  had  risen  and  made  a  few  steps 
forward;  but,  on  seeing  this  procession,  he  stopped  in  the 
doorway  between  his  room  and  the  antechamber,  in  a  most 
noble  and  imposing  attitude.  I  was  beside  him.  Garat,  his 
hat  on  his  head,  spoke  and  said :  "  Louis,  the  National  Con- 
vention has  ordered  the  Provisional  Executive  council  to 
make  known  to  you  its  decree  of  the  15th,  16th,  17th,  19th 
and  20th  of  January,  1793 ;  the  secretary  of  the  council  will 
now  read  it  to  you."  Then  Grouville,  the  secretary,  unfolded 
the  decree  and  read  it  in  a  weak  and  trembling  voice :  — 


Decree  of  the  National  Convention  of  the  Ihth  to  the  20th 
of  January. 

Akticle  I.  The  National  Convention  declares  Louis  Capet 
last  King  of  the  French,  guilty  of  conspiracy  against  the 
liberty  of  the  Nation,  and  of  criminal  attempts  against  the 
general  safety  of  the  State. 

Article  II.  The  National  Convention  declares  that  Louis 
Capet  shall  suffer  the  penalty  of  death. 

Article  III.  The  National  Convention  declares  null  the 
act  of  Louis  Capet  brought  to  the  bar  of  the  Convention  by 
his  counsel,  called  an  appeal  to  the  nation  from  the  judg- 
ment rendered  against  him  by  the  Convention  ;  it  forbids  all 
persons  from  taking  it  up,  under  pain  of  being  tried  and 
punished  as  guUty  of  criminal  attempts  against  the  safety 
of  the  Eepublic. 


194  MADAMK    t-:LISAnETII    DE    FRANCE.        [.  iivr.  iii. 

Akticlf,  IV.  The  Provisional  Executive  council  will  notify 
the  prosont  decree  in  the  course  of  tliis  day  to  Louis  Capet, 
and  lake  the  necessary  police  and  safety  measures  to  carry 
out  the  execution  within  twenty-four  hours  from  the  time 
of  its  notification ;  rendering  an  account  of  all  to  the 
National  Convention  immediately  after  the  execution. 

During  the  reading  of  the  decree  not  the  slightest  change 
appeared  on  the  face  of  the  king.  I  noticed  only  that  in 
the  lirst  Article,  when  the  word  "  conspiracy  "  was  uttered, 
a  smile  of  indignation  came  upon  his  lips ;  but  at  the  words 
"  suffer  the  penalty  of  death,"  a  heavenly  look  which  he  cast 
on  all  those  who  surrounded  him  told  them  that  death  was 
without  terrors  for  innocence. 

The  king  made  a  step  towards  Grouville,  the  secretary, 
took  the  decree  from  his  hand,  folded  it,  drew  his  portfolio 
from  his  pocket,  and  put  the  paper  into  it.  Then,  taking 
another  paper  from  the  same  portfolio,  he  said  to  Garat : 
"  Monsieur  the  minister  of  justice,  I  beg  you  to  send  this 
letter  at  once  to  the  National  Convention."  The  minister 
seeming  to  hesitate,  the  king  added,  "  I  will  read  it  to  you," 
and  without  any  change  of  tone  he  read  what  follows :  — 

"  I  ask  for  a  delay  of  three  days  that  I  may  prepare  my- 
self to  appear  before  God.  I  demand  for  the  same  purpose 
to  be  able  to  see  freely  the  person  I  shall  name  to  the  com- 
missioners of  the  Commune,  and  that  the  said  person  shall 
be  protected  from  all  anxiety  about  the  act  of  charity  which 
he  will  do  for  me. 

"  I  ask  to  be  delivered  from  the  incessant  watching  which 
the  council  of  the  Commune  established  recently. 

"  I  ask  to  be  able,  during  that  interval,  to  see  my  family 
when  I  ask  it,  and  without  witnesses. 

"  I  much  desire  that  the  National  Convention  shall  at 
once  concern  itself  with  the  fate  of  my  family,  and  that  it 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVI.  195 

will  permit  them  to  retire  freely  wherever  they  may  wish 
to  go. 

"  I  commend  to  the  beneficence  of  the  Nation  all  the  per- 
sons who  have  been  attached  to  me.  Many  have  put  their 
whole  fortunes  into  their  offices,  and  now,  receiving  no  sal- 
aries, they  must  be  in  need ;  the  same  must  also  be  the  case 
with  those  who  had  only  their  salaries  to  support  them ;  and 
among  the  pensionaries,  there  are  many  old  men,  women,  and 
children  who  have  nothing  but  their  pensions  to  live  upon. 

"Done  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple,  January  20,  one 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  ninety-three.  Louis." 

Garat  took  the  king's  letter  and  assured  him  that  he 
would  take  it  to  the  Convention.  As  he  was  leaving,  the 
king  drew  another  paper  from  his  pocket  and  said :  "  Mon- 
sieur, if  the  Convention  grants  my  request  for  the  person  I 
desire,  here  is  his  address."  That  address,  in  another 
handwriting  than  that  of  the  king  ^  was  as  follows :  "  Mon- 
sieur Edgeworth  de  Firmont,  No.  483  rue  du  Bac."  The 
king  then  walked  a  few  steps  back  ;  the  minister  and  those 
who  accompanied  him  went  away. 

His  Majesty  paced  for  a  moment  up  and  down  his  room ; 
I  stood  leaning  against  the  door  as  if  deprived  of  all  feeling. 
The  king  came  to  me  and  said,  "  Cldry,  ask  for  my  dinner." 
A  few  moments  later,  two  municipals  entered  the  dining- 
room  ;  they  read  me  an  order  which  was  as  follows :  "  Louis 
is  not  to  have  knife  or  fork  at  his  meals;  a  knife  is  to  be 
given  to  his  vald  de  chamhre  to  cut  his  bread  and  meat  in 
presence  of  two  commissioners,  and  the  knife  will  then  be 
removed."  The  two  municipals  told  me  to  inform  the  king. 
I  refused. 

On  entering  the  dining-room  the  king  saw  the  basket  in 
1  Doubtless  that  of  Madame  li^lisabeth.  —  Tu. 


196  MADAME    i^XISABETH   DE   FRANCE.         [chai-.  in. 

which  was  the  queen's  dinner.  He  asked  why  they  had 
made  his  family  wait  an  hour;  adding  that  the  delay  might 
have  made  them  anxious.  He  sat  down  to  table.  "  I  have 
no  knife,"  he  said.  The  municipal  Minier  informed  His 
Majesty  of  the  order  of  the  Commune.  "  Do  they  think  me 
so  cowardly  as  to  take  my  own  life  ? "  said  the  king.  "  They 
impute  to  me  crimes,  but  I  am  innocent  and  I  can  die  with- 
out fear  ;  I  would  that  my  death  might  make  the  welfare  of 
Frenchmen  and  avert  from  them  the  evils  I  foresee."  A 
great  silence  fell.  The  king  cut  his  beef  with  a  spoon,  and 
broke  his  bread;  he  ate  little,  and  his  dinner  lasted  only  a 
few  minutes. 

I  was  in  my  room,  given  over  to  frightful  grief,  when, 
about  six  in  the  evening,  Garat  returned  to  the  Tower.  I 
went  to  announce  to  the  king  the  arrival  of  the  minister  of 
justice.  Santerre,  who  preceded  him,  approached  His  Ma- 
jesty and  said  in  a  low  voice,  with  a  smiling  air,  "  Here  is 
the  Executive  council."  The  minister,  advancing,  told  the 
king  that  he  had  taken  his  letter  to  the  Convention,  which 
charged  him  to  deliver  the  following  answer :  "  Louis  is  at 
liberty  to  call  for  any  minister  of  worship  that  he  thinks 
proper ;  and  to  see  his  family  freely  and  without  witnesses ; 
the  nation,  always  grand  and  always  just,  will  concern  itself 
with  the  fate  of  his  family ;  the  creditors  of  his  house  will 
be  granted  just  indemnities ;  as  to  the  three  days'  respite,  the 
National  Convention  passes  to  the  order  of  the  day." 

The  king  listened  to  the  reading  of  this  reply  without 
making  any  obser\'ation ;  he  returned  to  his  room,  and  said 
to  me :  "I  thought,  from  Santerre's  air,  that  the  delay  was 
granted."  A  young  municipal,  named  Boston,  seeing  the 
king  speak  to  me,  came  nearer.  "  You  seem  to  feel  what 
has  happened  to  me,"  the  king  said  to  him ;  "  receive  my 
thanks."     The  man,  surprised,  did  not  know  what  to  answer, 


1793]  THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  197 

and  I  was  myself  amazed  at  the  expressions  of  His  Majesty, 
for  this  municipal,  not  twenty-two  years  of  age,  with  a  sweet 
and  interesting  face,  had  said  a  few  moments  earlier :  "  I 
asked  to  come  to  the  Temple  that  I  might  see  the  grimaces 
he  will  make  to-morrow  "  (meaning  the  king).  "  And  I,  too," 
said  Merceraut,  the  stone-cutter  of  whom  I  have  already 
spoken.  "  Everybody  refused  to  come  ;  but  I  would  not  give 
up  this  day  for  a  great  deal  of  money."  Such  were  the  vile 
and  ferocious  men  whom  the  Commune  of  Paris  appointed 
to  guard  the  king  in  his  last  moments. 

For  four  days  the  king  had  not  seen  his  counsel ;  those  of 
the  commissioners  who  had  showed  some  feeling  for  his  mis- 
fortunes, avoided  coming  near  him ;  of  all  the  subjects 
whose  father  he  had  been,  of  all  the  Frenchmen  whom  he 
had  loaded  with  benefits,  one  single  servant  alone  remained 
to  him  as  confidant  of  his  sorrows. 

After  the  reading  of  the  answer  of  the  Convention,  the 
commissioners  addressed  the  minister  of  .justice  and  asked 
him  how  the  king  was  to  see  his  family.  "  In  private,"  re- 
plied Garat ;  "  that  is  the  intention  of  the  Convention."  Tlie 
municipals  then  told  him  of  the  decree  of  the  Commune 
ordering  them  not  to  lose  sight  of  the  king  "  day  or  night." 
It  was  agreed  between  the  Commissioners  and  the  minister 
that  in  order  to  combine  these  two  opposing  decrees,  the  king 
should  receive  his  family  in  the  dining-room  where  he  could 
be  seen  through  the  glass  partition,  but  that  the  door  should 
be  shut  so  that  he  could  not  be  heard. 

The  king  here  recalled  the  minister  of  justice  to  ask  if  he 
had  notified  M.  de  Firmont.  Garat  replied  tliat  he  had 
brought  him  in  his  carriage,  that  he  was  then  in  the  council- 
room,  and  would  come  up, immediately.  His  Majesty  now, 
in  the  presence  of  Garat,  gave  to  a  municipal,  named  Beau- 
drais,  who  was  talking  with  the  minister,  the  sum  of  3000 


198  MADAME  Elisabeth  de  France.      [chap.  m. 

francs  in  golil,  requesting  him  to  return  it  to  ^I.  de  Males- 
herbes  to  \vhoni  it  belonged.  The  nuinicipal  promised  to  do 
so  ;  but  he  took  the  money  to  tlie  council-room,  and  it  was 
never  returned  to  M.  de  Malesherbes.  M.  de  Firmont  ap- 
peared ;  the  king  took  him  into  the  tourcUc  and  closed  the 
door.  Garat  having  gone,  no  one  remained  in  his  Majesty's 
apartment  but  the  four  municipals.  At  eight  o'clock  the 
kinsT  came  out  of  his  cabinet  and  told  the  commissioners  to 
take  him  to  his  family.  They  replied  that  that  could  not  be 
done,  but  they  would  bring  his  family  to  him  if  he  desired 
it.  "  Very  well,"  said  the  king,  "  but  I  can,  at  least,  see  them 
alone  in  my  room."  "  No,"  replied  one  of  them,  "  we  have 
arranged  with  the  minister  of  justice  that  you  shall  see  them 
in  the  dining-room."  "  You  have  heard  the  decree  of  the 
Convention,"  said  His  Majesty,  "  which  permits  me  to  see 
them  without  witnesses."  "  That  is  true,"  said  the  mimicipal, 
"  you  will  be  in  private,  the  door  will  he  shut,  hut  we  shall 
have  our  eyes  upon  you  through  the  glass  partition."  "  Bring 
down  my  family,"  said  the  king. 

During  this  interval.  His  Majesty  went  to  the  dining- 
room;  I  followed  him.  I  drew  the  table  to  one  side  and 
placed  the  chairs  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  to  give  more 
space.  "  Bring  some  water  and  a  glass,"  said  the  king. 
There  was  then  on  the  table  a  bottle  of  iced  water ;  I  brought 
only  a  glass  and  placed  it  beside  the  water-bottle.  "  Bring 
water  that  is  not  iced,"  said  the  king.  "If  the  queen  drank 
the  other  it  might  make  her  ill  Tell  M.  de  Firmont,"  added 
His  Majesty,  "  not  to  leave  my  cabinet ;  I  fear  the  sight  of 
him  would  make  my  family  too  unhappy." 

The  commissioner  who  was  sent  to  fetch  the  royal  family 
was  absent  a  quarter  of  an  hour ;  during  that  time  the  king 
went  back  to  his  cabinet,  returning  several  times  to  the  en- 
trance-door, with  signs  of  the  deepest  emotion. 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS  XVI.  199 

At  half -past  eight  the  door  opened ;  the  queen  appeared 
first,  holding  her  son  by  the  hand ;  then  Madame  Royale  and 
Madame  Elisabeth ;  they  ran  to  the  arms  of  the  king.  A 
gloomy  silence  reigned  for  several  minutes,  interrupted  only 
by  sobs.  The  queen  made  a  movement  to  draw  the  king 
into  his  room,  "  No,"  he  said,  "  let  us  go  into  the  dining- 
room,  I  can  see  you  only  there."  They  went  there,  and  I 
closed  the  door,  which  was  of  glass,  behind  them.  The  king 
sat  down,  the  queen  on  his  left,  Madame  Elisabeth  on  his 
right,  Madame  Eoyale  nearly  opposite  to  him,  and  the  little 
prince  between  his  knees.  All  were  bending  towards  him 
and  held  him  half  embraced.  This  scene  of  sorrow  lasted 
seven  quarters  of  an  hour,  during  which  it  was  impossible  to 
hear  anything ;  we  could  see  only  that  after  each  sentence  of 
the  king  the  sobs  of  the  princesses  redoubled,  lasting  some 
minutes ;  then  the  king  would  resume  what  he  was  saying. 
It  was  easy  to  judge  from  their  motions  that  the  king  him- 
self was  the  first  to  tell  them  of  his  condemnation. 

At  a  quarter  past  ten  the  king  rose  first ;  they  all  followed 
him ;  I  opened  the  door ;  the  queen  held  the  king  by  the 
right  arm  ;  Their  Majesties  each  gave  a  hand  to  the  dauphin  ; 
Madame  Royale  on  the  left  clasped  the  king's  body ;  Ma- 
dame Elisabeth,  on  the  same  side  but  a  little  behind  the  rest, 
had  caught  the  left  arm  of  her  brother.  They  made  a  few 
steps  towards  the  entrance,  uttering  the  most  sorrowful 
moans.  "  I  assure  you,"  said  the  king, "  that  I  will  see  you 
to-morrow  at  eight  o'clock."  "  You  promise  us  ? "  they  all 
cried.  "  Yes,  I  promise  it."  "  Why  not  at  seven  o'clock  ? " 
said  the  queen.  "  Well,  then,  yes,  at  seven  o'clock,"  replied 
the  king.  "Adieu  —  "  He  uttered  that  "  adieu  "  in  so  ex- 
pressive a  manner  that  the  sobs  redoubled.  Madame  Royale 
fell  fainting  at  the  king's  feet,  which  she  clasped ;  I  raised 
her  and  helped  Madame  Elisabeth  to  hold  her.     The  king, 


200  MADAME    ^ILISAHETn   1)E   FUANCK.         [omai-.  hi. 

wishing  tt^  put  nii  eml  to  this  ht>nrt-reiulin<^  scone,  gave  them 
all  a,  most  tender  embraee,  and  then  had  the  strength  to  tear 
himself  from  their  arms.  "  Adieu  —  adieu,"  he  said,  and 
re-entered  his  chamber. 

The  jtrineesses  went  up  to  theirs.  I  wislied  to  go  too  tx) 
support  Madame  Eoyale ;  the  municipals  stoj)petl  me  on  the 
second  stair  and  forced  me  to  go  back.  Though  the  two 
do«:>rs  were  shut,  we  continued  to  hear  the  sobs  and  moans  of 
the  princesses  on  the  staircase.  The  king  rejoined  his  con- 
fessor in  the  tourellc. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  came  out  and  I  served  the  supper. 
The  king  ate  little,  but  with  appetite. 

After  supper,  His  Majesty  having  returned  to  his  cabinet 
in  the  tourelle,  his  confessor  came  out  an  instant  later  and 
asked  the  commissioners  to  take  him  to  the  council-room. 
This  was  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  the  sacerdotal  robes, 
and  other  tilings  necessary  to  say  mass  on  the  following 
morning.  M.  de  Firmont  obtained  with  difficulty  the  grant- 
ing of  this  request.  It  was  to  the  church  of  the  Capuchins 
in  the  Marais,  near  the  hotel  de  Soubise,  which  had  lately 
been  made  a  parish  church,  that  they  sent  for  the  articles 
required  for  divine  service. 

Eeturning  from  the  council-room,  M.  de  Firraont  went 
back  to  the  king.  They  both  re-entered  the  tourelle,  where 
they  remained  until  half  an  hour  after  midnight.  Then  I 
undressed  the  king,  and  as  I  was  about  to  roll  his  hair,  he 
said  to  me,  "  It  is  not  worth  while."  When  I  closed  the 
curtains  after  he  was  in  bed,  he  said,  "  Cldry,  wake  me  at  five 
o'clock." 

He  was  hardly  in  bed  before  a  deep  sleep  took  possession 
of  his  senses;  he  slept  until  five  o'clock  without  waking. 
M.  de  Firmont,  whom  His  Majesty  had  urged  to  take  a  little 
rest,  threw  himself  on  my  bed,  and  I  passed  the  night  on  a 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY  OF  LOUIS   XVI.  201 

chair  in  the  king's  room,  praying  God  to  preserve  both  his 
strength  and  his  courage. 

I  heard  five  o'clock  strike  on  the  city  clocks  and  I  lit  the 
fire.  At  the  noise  I  made,  the  king  awoke  and  said,  opening 
his  curtaia,"  Is  it  five  o'clock  ? "  "  Sire,  it  has  struck  five 
on  several  of  the  city  clocks,  but  not  here."  The  fire  being 
lighted  I  went  to  his  bedside.  "  I  have  slept  well,"  he  said ; 
"  I  needed  it,  for  yesterday  tired  me  very  much.  Where  is 
M.  de  Firmont  ?  "  "  On  my  bed."  "  And  you,  where  did  you 
sleep  ? "  "  In  this  chair."  "  I  am  sorr}^,"  said  the  king. 
"  Ah  Sire  !  I  exclaimed,  "  how  can  I  think  of  myself  at  such 
a  moment  ? "  He  held  out  his  hand  to  me  and  pressed  mine 
with  affection. 

I  dressed  the  king  and  did  his  hair;  while  dressing,  he 
took  from  his  watch  a  seal,  put  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  waist- 
coat, and  laid  the  watch  upon  the  chimney-piece ;  then,  tak- 
ing from  his  finger  a  ring,  which  he  looked  at  many  times, 
he  put  it  in  the  same  pocket  where  the  seal  was.  He 
changed  his  shirt,  put.  on  a  white  waistcoat  which  he  had 
worn  the  night  before,  and  I  helped  him  on  with  his  coat. 
He  took  from  his  pockets  his  portfolio,  his  eye-glass,  his 
snuff-box,  and  some  other  articles  ;  he  laid  them  with  his 
purse  on  the  chimney-piece;  all  this  in  silence  and  before 
the  municipals.  His  toilet  completed,  the  king  told  me  to 
inform  M.  de  Firmont.  I  went  to  call  him ;  he  was  already 
up,  and  he  followed  His  Majesty  into  the  tourelle. 

I  then  placed  a  bureau  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and  pre- 
pared it,  like  an  altar,  for  the  mass.  At  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  all  the  necessary  articles  had  been  brought.  I  took 
into  my  own  room  the  priest's  robe,  and  then,  when  every- 
thing was  ready,  I  went  to  inform  the  king.  He  asked  me 
if  I  could  serve  the  mass.  I  answered  yes,  but  that  I  did 
not  know  all  the  responses  by  heart.     He  had  a  book  in  his 


202  MADAM K  Elisabeth  de  riiANCE.       [niAi-.  m. 

hand  which  he  oj)Oiied,  found  the  place  of  the  mass,  and  gave 
it  to  nic,  taking  another  book  for  himself. 

During  this  time  the  priest  robed  himself.  1  had  placed 
an  arm-chair  before  the  altar  and  a  large  cushion  on  the  floor 
for  His  Majesty.  The  king  made  me  take  away  the  cushion, 
and  went  himself  into  his  cabinet  to  fetch  another,  smaller 
and  covered  with  horsehair,  which  he  used  daily  to  say  his 
prayers.  As  soon  as  the  priest  entered,  the  municipals  re- 
tired into  the  antechamber,  and  I  closed  one  half  of  the 
door. 

Mass  began  at  six  o'clock.  During  that  august  ceremony 
a  great  silence  reigned.  The  king,  always  on  his  knees, 
listened  to  the  mass  with  deep  absorption,  in  a  most  noble 
attitude.  His  Majesty  took  the  communion.  After  mass, 
he  went  into  his  cabinet,  and  the  priest  into  my  room  to 
remove  his  sacerdotal  garments. 

I  seized  that  moment  to  enter  the  king's  cabinet.  He  took 
me  by  both  hands  and  said  in  a  touching  voice :  "  Cl^ry,  I 
am  satisfied  with  yom-  services."  "Ah,  Sire  !  "  I  cried,  throw- 
ing myself  at  his  feet.  "  Why  can  I  not  die  to  satisfy  your 
murderers  and  save  a  life  so  precious  to  good  Frenchmen  ! 
Hope,  Sire,  —  they  dare  not  strike  you."  "  Death  does  not 
alarm  me,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  quite  prepared ;  but  you,"  he 
continued,  "  do  not  expose  yourself ;  I  shall  ask  that  you  be 
kejjt  near  my  son ;  give  him  all  your  care  in  this  dreadful 
place;  remind  him,  tell  him  often,  how  I  have  grieved  for 
the  misfortunes  he  must  bear :  some  day  he  may  be  able  to 
reward  your  zeal."  "  Ah  !  my  master,  my  king,  if  the  most 
absolute  devotion,  if  my  zeal  and  my  care  have  been  agree- 
able to  you,  the  only  reward  I  ask  is  to  receive  your  bless- 
ing —  do  not  refuse  it  to  the  last  Frenchman  who  remains 
beside  you." 

I  was  already  at  his  feet,  holding  one  of  his  hands ;  in 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF   LOUIS  XVI.  203 

that  position  he  granted  my  prayer  and  gave  me  his  bless- 
ing ;  then  he  raised  me,  and  pressing  me  to  his  bosom  said  : 
"  Give  it  also  to  all  who  are  attached  to  me ;  tell  Turgy  I 
am  content  with  him.  Now,  go  back,"  he  added ;  "  give  no 
cause  for  complaint  against  you."  Then,  calling  me  back  and 
taking  a  paper  from  the  table,  he  said,  "  See,  here  is  a  letter 
Potion  wi-ote  me  at  the  time  of  your  entrance  to  the  Temple. 
It  may  be  useful  to  you  for  remaining  here."  I  caught  his 
hand  again  and  kissed  it,  and  went  out.  "  Adieu,"  he  said  to 
me  again, "  Adieu." 

I  returned  to  my  chamber,  where  I  found  M.  de  Firmont 
praying  on  his  knees  beside  my  bed.  "  What  a  prince  !  "  he 
said  to  me  as  he  rose ;  "  with  what  resignation,  with  what 
courage  he  looks  at  death !  he  was  as  tranquil  as  if  he  were 
hearing  mass  in  his  palace  in  the  midst  of  his  Court."  "  I 
have  just  received  the  most  affecting  farewell,"  I  said  to 
him.  "  He  has  deigned  to  promise  me  that  he  will  ask  to 
have  me  remain  in  the  Tower  to  wait  on  his  son.  Monsieur, 
I  beg  of  you  to  remind  him,  for  I  shall  not  have  the  happi- 
ness to  speak  to  him  in  private  again."  "  Be  at  ease  about 
that,"  replied  M,  de  Firmont  as  he  turned  to  rejoin  His 
Majesty. 

At  seven  o'clock  the  king  came  out  of  his  cabinet  and 
called  me ;  he  took  me  into  the  embrasure  of  the  window  and 
said  :  "  You  will  give  this  seal  to  my  son  —  and  this  ring  to 
the  queen ;  tell  her  that  I  part  from  it  with  pain  and  only 
at  the  last  moment.  This  little  packet  incloses  the  hair  of 
all  my  family ;  you  will  give  her  that  also.  Say  to  the 
queen,  to  my  dear  children,  to  my  sister,  that  althougli  I 
promised  to  see  them  this  morning,  I  wish  to  spare  them  the 
pain  of  so  cruel  a  separation.  —  How  much  it  costs  me  to  go 
without  receiving  their  last  embraces ! "  He  wiped  away 
a  few  tears ;  then  he  added,  with  a  most  sorrowful  accent, 

14  Mem.  Vcr.  9 


204  MADAME  Elisabeth  de  France.      [chap.  m. 

"  I  cliiirgo  ytui  to  take  them  my  farewell."  He  immediately 
re-entered  his  eabiiiet. 

The  municipals  who  were  eh)se  at  hand  had  heard  His 
Majesty,  and  had  seen  him  give  me  the  different  articles 
which  I  still  held  iu  my  hands.  They  told  me  to  give  them 
up  to  them ;  but  one  of  their  number  proposed  to  leave  them 
in  my  hands  for  a  decision  of  the  council  about  them,  and 
this  advice  prevailed.^ 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  king  came  out  of  his 
cabinet.  "  Ask,"  he  said  to  me, "  if  I  can  have  scissors ; "  and 
he  went  in  again.  I  made  the  request  of  the  commis- 
sioners. "  Do  you  know  what  he  wants  to  do  with  them  ?  " 
I  said  I  did  not.  "  You  must  let  us  know."  I  knocked  at  the 
door  of  the  cabinet.  The  king  came  out.  A  municipal  who 
followed  me  said  to  him :  "  You  have  asked  for  scissors,  but 
before  we  take  your  request  to  the  council  we  must  know 
what  you  wish  to  do  with  them."  His  Majesty  replied,  "  I 
wish  Cl^ry  to  cut  my  hair."  The  municipals  retired ;  one  of 
them  went  down  to  the  council-chamber,  where,  after  half 
an  hour's  deliberation,  they  refused  the  scissors.  The  muni- 
cipals returned  and  announced  that  decision  to  the  king.  "  I 
should  not  have  touched  the  scissors,"  said  His  Majesty ;  "  I 
should  have  requested  Cl^ry  to  cut  my  hair  in  your  presence ; 
inquire  again,  monsieur;  I  beg  you  to  take  charge  of  my 
request."  The  municipal  returned  to  the  council,  which 
persisted  in  its  refusal. 

It  was  then  that  I  was  told  to  be  ready  to  accompany  the 
king  and  undress  him  on  the  scaffold.  At  this  announce- 
ment I  was  seized  with  terror ;  but  collecting  all  my  strength 
I  was  preparing  to  render  this  last  duty  to  my  master,  to  whom 
this  service  done  by  the  executioner  would  be  repugnant, 
when  another    municipal    came  to  tell    me    that   I  was 

^  See  Appendix  V. 


1793]  THE   CAPTIVITY   OF  LOUIS  XVI.  205 

not  to  go;  adding,  "The  executioner  is  good  enough  for 
him." 

Paris  was  under  arms  from  five  o'clock  in  the  morning ; 
nothing  was  heard  outside  but  the  beating  of  the  generale, 
the  rattle  of  arms,  the  tramp  of  horses,  the  movement  of 
cannon,  which  they  placed  and  displaced  incessantly.  All 
this  echoed  through  the  Tower. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  noise  increased,  the  gates  opened  with 
a  crash ;  Santerre,  accompanied  by  seven  or  eight  municipals, 
entered  at  the  head  of  ten  gendarmes,  whom  he  ranged  in 
two  lines.  At  this  disturbance  the  king  came  out  of  his 
cabinet.  "  Have  you  come  to  fetch  me  ? "  he  said  to  Santerre 
"  Yes."  "  I  ask  you  for  one  minute."  The  king  entered  his 
cabinet  and  came  out  again  immediately,  his  confessor  with 
him.  He  held  his  will  in  his  hand,  and,  addressing  a  mu- 
nicipal, Jacques  Roux  by  name,  a  priest  who  had  taken  the 
oath,  who  was  the  man  nearest  to  him,  he  said  :  "  I  beg  you 
to  give  this  paper  to  the  queen,  to  my  wife."  "  It  is  not  my 
business,"  replied  the  priest,  refusing  to  take  the  document. 
"  I  am  here  to  conduct  you  to  the  scaffold."  His  Majesty 
then  addressed  Gobau,  another  municipal.  "  Give  this  paper, 
I  beg  you,  to  my  wife.  You  can  read  it ;  it  contains  dispo- 
sitions which  I  desire  that  the  Commune  should  know." 
Gobau  took  the  document. 

I  was  behind  the  king,  near  the  chimney;  he  turned  to 
me  and  I  offered  him  his  overcoat.  "  I  have  no  need  of  it," 
he  said,  "  give  me  only  my  hat."  I  gave  it  to  him.  His 
hand  touched  mine,  which  he  pressed  for  the  last  time. 
"  Messieurs,"  he  said,  addressing  the  municipals,  "  I  desire 
that  Cl^ry  should  remain  near  my  son,  who  is  accustomed  to 
his  care ;  I  hope  that  the  Commune  will  accede  to  my  re- 
quest."    Then,  looking  at  Santerre,  he  said,  "  Let  us  go." 

Those  were  the  last  words  that  he  said  in  his  apartment. 


206  MAUAMK    /'.LISAnKTll    DK    FUANCE.  [chap.  iir. 

At  tlie  top  of  the  staircase  he  met  Mathey,  porter  of  the 
Tower,  and  said  to  him:  "  I  was  a  little  hasty  to  you  day 
before  yesterday;  do  not  bear  me  ill-will."  Matliey  made 
no  answer;  ho  even  affected  to  turn  away  when  the  king 
spoke  to  him. 

I  remained  alone  in  the  room,  my  heart  wrunjr  with  sorrow, 
and  almost  without  sensation.  The  drums  and  the  trumpets 
announced  that  His  ]\Iajesty  had  left  the  Tower.  An  hoiu- 
later  salvos  of  artillery  and  cries  of  Vive  la  nation  !  Vive  la 
repuhliq}U  !  were  heard.     The  best  of  kings  was  no  more  1 


NARRATIVE 

OF    MARIE-THERESE    DE    FRANCE, 

DUCHESSE  D'ANGOULEME. 


NARRATIVE 

Op  Madame  TeiiRisE  de  France. 

Relating :  I,  Events  from  October  5, 1789,  to  August  10, 1792.  II.  Events 
taking  place  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple  from  August,  1792,  to  the 
Death  of  the  Dauphin,  June  9,  1795. 

[The  latter  part  of  this  Narrative^  was  the  part  first 
written  by  Marie-Thdrfese,  Madame  Royale  de  France,  only 
surviving  child  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie-Antoinette.  She 
wrote  it  in  the  Temple  after  the  death  of  her  brother  in 
1795,  when  her  own  captivity  became  less  rigorous,  and 
she  was  allowed  the  use  of  pencil  and  paper. 

The  first  part  of  the  Narrative,  that  which  relates  the 
various  events  taking  place  from  October  5,  1789,  to  August 
10,  1792,  was  written  by  her  in  1799,  during  her  exile  and 
soon  after  her  marriage  to  her  cousin,  the  Due  dAngou- 
leme,  son  of  the  Comte  d'Artois,  subsequently  Charles  X. 
This  manuscript  was  corrected  and  copied,  in  his  own 
handwriting,  by  her  uncle,  Monsieur,  Comte  de  Provence, 
subsequently  Louis  XVIII.,  with  whom  she  lived  during 
his  two  exiles  and  his  two  Restorations  till  his  death.  This 
copy,  now  in  possession  of  the  family  of  Frangois  Hue,  a 
devoted  attendant  of  the  royal  family  of  France,  to  whom 
the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  gave  it,  was  first  published  by 
M.  de  Saint-Amand  (Firmin  Didot,  Paris,  no  date).  From 
that  edition  this  translation  is  made.  The  additions  by 
Louis  XVIII.  are  placed  in  the  text  between  brackets ;  his 
omissions,  which  are  chiefly  of  words  and  brief  sentences, 

*  Beginning  on  page  243.  —  Ts, 


210  MADAMK    f:i,lSAlU:ril    DK    KKANCE.  [1789 

nituie  to  oorrert  his  niin-e's   Kronch   slvlc,  ;iii',  necessarily, 
not  shown  in  the  transhilion.] 


/'i>5/  Uprising  of  the  Populace  on  the  5th  and  6th  of  October 
1781).     J\c}iwval  of  my  Famili/  to  the  Cajrital. 

It  >vas  on  the  5th  of  October,  1789,  of  a  Monday,  that  the 
first  liisfin-bances  which,  in  tlie  end,  convulsed  all  France, 
broke  forth.  In  the  morning  of  that  too  memorable  day 
every  one  was  still  tranquil  at  Versailles.  My  father  had 
gone  to  hunt  at  Meudon,  a  royal  chateau  midway  to  Paris ; 
my  motlier  had  gone  alone  to  her  garden  at  Trianon ;  my 
uncle  Monsieur,  \^ith.  Madame,  remained  at  Versailles;  my 
Aunt  Elisabeth  had  ridden  out  on  horseback  to  dine  at 
her  garden  on  the  road  to  Paris;  my  brother  and  I  had 
also  gone  out  in  the  morning  and  returned  towards  half- 
past  one  to  dine  with  my  mother.  Hardly  had  my  Aunt 
Elisabeth  reached  Montreuil  and  begun  her  dinner  when 
they  came  to  tell  her  that  all  the  women  and  all  the 
rabble  of  Paris  were  coming,  armed,  to  Versailles.  A 
few  moments  later  the  news  was  confirmed ;  they  were 
already  verj'  near  Versailles,  where  my  father  had  not  yet 
returned.  My  aunt  went  back  at  once  to  Versailles  accom- 
panied by  her  two  ladies-in-waiting.  Going  to  my  uncle's 
apartment,  she  asked  if  he  knew  what  was  happening;  he 
said  he  had  heard  talk  of  all  Paris  coming  out  to  Versailles 
armed,  but  he  did  not  believe  it;  my  aunt  assured  him 
that  the  thing  was  true,  and  together  they  went  to  my 
mother. 

We  had  just  finished  dinner  when  it  was  announced 
that  Monsiexir  and  Mme.  Elisabeth  were  there  and  wished 
to  speak  to  the  queen.     My  mother  was  surprised,  because 


1789]  NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  211 

it  was  not  her  usual  hour  for  seeing  them.  She  passed  into 
another  room  [to  speak  with  them],  and  returned  almost 
immediately,  much  agitated  by  what  she  had  heard  and 
still  more  uneasy  about  my  father;  she  was  not  aware 
that  the  moment  the  news  of  the  insurrection  reached 
Versailles  two  gentlemen,  named  Puymontbrun  and  La 
Devfeze,  had  hastened  on  liorseback  to  warn  my  father. 
He  returned  at  five  o'clock,  and  by  six  the  whole  troop  of 
rioters  were  in  Versailles;  the  iron  gates  of  the  chateau 
were  closed  and  defended  by  the  Gardes  du  Corps. 

M.  de  la  Fayette  was  at  the  head  of  this  Parisian  army. 
[None  but  the  rabble  came  first;  M.  de  la  Fayette  did 
not  come,  with  troops  little  disciplined,  until  eleven  at 
night.]  They  entered  the  hall  of  the  Assembly,  where 
they  declaimed  much  against  the  king  and  the  govern- 
ment. The  president  of  the  Assembly,  M.  Mounier,  came 
several  times  to  the  chateau  to  speak  to  my  father.  The 
Due  d'Orl^ans  was  with  la  Fayette  [they  were  not  to- 
gether], and  it  was  said  they  intended  to  make  him  king. 
However  that  may  be,  the  object  of  these  rioters  was  not 
well  known  to  themselves ;  none  but  the  leaders  were  in- 
formed of  their  true  purpose.  Their  [principal]  purpose 
was  to  murder  my  mother,  on  whom  the  Due  d'Orleans 
wished  to  avenge  himself  for  affronts  he  said  she  had  put 
upon  him ;  also  to  massacre  the  Gardes  du  Corps,  the  only 
ones  who  remained  faithful  to  their  king  [they  were  then 
commanded  by  the  Due  de  Guiche]. 

Towards  midnight  the  crowd  retired,  seeming  to  want 
rest ;  many  of  the  women  lay  down  on  the  benches  of  the 
National  Assembly.  M.  de  la  Fayette  himself  went  to  bed, 
saying  that  everything  was  tranquil  for  the  night ;  so  that 
my  father  and  mother,  seeing  that  all  was  really  quiet,  re- 
tired to  their  rooms,  and  so  did  the  rest  of  the  family. 


212  MAPAMi:    Kl.ISAlir.TII    DH    KIJANCE.  [1789 

My  mother  know  that  their  chief  object  was  to  kill  her; 
nevertheless*,  in  spite  of  that,  she  made  no  sign/but  retire+1 
t*)  her  riHMH  with  all  |>ossil)le  coolness  and  courage  [after 
ordering  all  \vhi>  had  gathered  there  to  retire  also].  She 
went  li»  K'll,  directing  Mnie.  do  Tourzel  to  take  her  son 
instantly  to  the  king  if  she  heard  any  noise  during  the 
night;  she  ordered  all  her  servants  to  go  to  bed. 

The  rest  of  the  night  was  (juiet  till  live  in  the  morning ; 
but  then  the  iron  gates  of  the  chateau  were  forced  and  the 
vagabond.*?,  led,  it  was  said,  by  the  Due  d'0rl6ans  himself, 
rushed  straight  to  my  mother's  apartment.  The  Swiss  Guard 
stationed  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  which  could  have  dis- 
puted their  passage,  gave  way,  so  that  the  villains,  without 
any  hindrance,  entered  the  hall  of  the  Gardes  du  Corps 
wounding  and  killing  those  who  tried  to  oppose  their  pas- 
sage. Two  of  these  guards,  named  Miomandre  de  Sainte- 
Marie  and  Durepaire,  though  grievously  wounded,  dragged 
themselves  to  my  mother's  door,  crying  out  to  her  to  fly  and 
bolt  the  doors  behind  her.  Their  zeal  was  cruelly  rewarded ; 
the  wretches  flung  themselves  upon  them  and  left  them 
bathed  in  their  blood,  for  dead.  Meantime,  my  mother's 
women,  wakened  by  the  shouts  of  the  insurgents  and  the 
Gardes  du  Corps,  rushed  to  the  door  and  bolted  it.  My 
mother  sprang  from  her  bed  and,  half-dressed,  ran  to  my 
father's  apartment ;  but  the  door  of  it  was  locked  within,  and 
those  who  were  there,  hearing  the  noise,  would  not  open  it, 
thinking  it  was  the  rioters  trying  to  enter.  Fortunately, 
a  man  on  duty  named  Turgy  (the  same  Nvho  afterwards 
served  us  in  the  Temple  as  waiter),  having  recognized  my 
mother's  voice,  opened  the  door  to  her  immediately. 

At  the  same  moment  the  wretches  forced  the  door  of  my 
mother's  room  ;  so  that  one  instant  later  she  would  have 
been   taken  without   means   of   escape.      As   soon   as   she 


1789]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME  ROYALE.  213 

entered  my  father's  rooms  she  looked  for  him,  but  could  not 
find  him;  having  heard  she  was  in  danger  he  had  rushed 
to  her  apartment,  but  by  another  way.  Fortunately,  he  met 
my  brother,  brought  to  him  by  Mme.  de  Tourzel,  who  urged 
him  to  return  to  his  own  rooms,  where  he  found  my  mother 
awaiting  him  in  mortal  anxiety.  Eeassured  about  my  father 
and  brother,  the  queen  came  in  search  of  me ;  I  was  already 
awakened  by  the  noise  in  her  rooms  and  in  the  garden 
under  my  windows ;  my  mother  told  me  to  rise,  and  then 
took  me  with  her  to  my  father's   apartment. 

My  great-aunts  Adelaide  and  Victoire  arrived  soon  after. 
"We  were  very  uneasy  about  Monsieur,  Madame,  and  my 
Aunt  Elisabeth,  of  whom  nothing  had  been  heard.  My 
father  sent  gentlemen  to  know  where  they  were.  They  were 
found  sleeping  peacefully ;  the  brigands  not  having  gone  to 
their  side  of  the  chateau,  neither  they  nor  their  servants 
knew  what  was  happening.  They  all  came  at  once  to  my 
father.  My  Aunt  Elisabeth  was  so  troubled  by  the  danger 
that  the  king  and  queen  had  run  that  she  crossed  the  rooms 
inundated  with  the  blood  of  the  Gardes  du  Corps  without 
even  perceiving  it.  .  .  . 

The  courtyard  of  the  chateau  presented  a  horrible  sight. 
A  crowd  of  women,  almost  naked,  and  men  armed  with 
pikes  threatened  our  windows  with  dreadful  cries.  M.  de 
la  Fayette  and  the  Due  d'Orl^ans  were  at  one  of  the 
windows,  pretending  to  be  in  despair  at  the  horrors  which 
were  being  committed  during  that  morning.  I  do  not 
know  who  advised  my  mother  to  show  herself  on  t|je 
balcony,  but  she  went  out  upon  it  with  my  brother.  The 
mob  demanded  that  her  son  should  be  sent  in;  having 
taken  him  into  the  room  my  mother  returned  alone  to  the 
balcony  [expecting  to  perish,  but  happily],  this  great  courage 
awed  the  whole  crowd  of  people,  who  confined  themselves 


214  MAHAMK    /:L1SAHKTII    VK    I'KANCE.  [1789 

to  liMiilinp  luT  with  insults  witlumt  daring,'  to  attack  her 
jiorson. 

M.  de  la  Fnyotte,  on  liis  side,  never  ceased  to  harangue 
the  rintors,  but  his  words  had  no  effect  and  the  tumult 
still  continued.  He  ttdd  them  that  my  father  consented  to 
ri'lurn  wiili  them  to  Paris;  he  said  he  could  assure  them 
of  this  as  my  father  had  given  him  his  word.  This  promise 
calmed  them  a  little,  and  while  the  Court  carriages  were 
W'ing  made  ready  to  start,  all  the  family  returned  to  their 
riK)ms  to  make  their  toilet,  for  up  to  this  time  we  still  wore 
our  night-oaps. 

All  heing  arranged  for  the  departure,  there  was  fresh 
embarrassment  alx)ut  how  to  leave  the  chateau,  because  they 
wished  to  prevent  my  father  from  crossing  the  great  guard- 
nx)ms  which  were  inundated  with  blood.  We  therefore 
went  down  by  a  small  staircase,  crossed  the  Cour  des  Cerfs 
and  got  into  a  carriage  for  six  persons ;  on  the  back  seat 
were  my  father,  mother  and  brother;  on  the  front  seat 
Madame,  my  Aunt  Elisabeth  and  I,  in  the  middle  my  uncle 
Monsieur  and  Mme.  de  Tourzel.  My  great-aunts,  Adelaide 
and  Victoire  started  for  their  country-seat,  Bellevue,  at  the 
same  time. 

The  crowd  was  so  great  it  was  long  before  we  could  ad- 
vance. In  front  of  the  cortege  were  carried  the  heads  of 
the  two  Gardes  du  Corps  who  had  been  killed.  Close  to  the 
carriage  was  M.  de  la  Fayette  on  horseback  surrounded  by 
troops  of  the  Flanders  regiment  on  foot,  and  of  the  grena- 
diers of  the  French  guard.  [In  the  ranks  of  the  latter  and 
mingling  with  them,  though  with  very  different  sentiments, 
were  several  of  the  Gardes  du  Corps,  who  gave  to  their  king 
in  these  cruel  moments  the  last  mark  of  devotion  which  it 
was  ever  possible  for  their  regiment  to  give.] 

We  started  at  one  in  the  afternoon.     Though  the  journey 


1789]  NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  215 

from  Versailles  to  Paris  is  usually  done  in  two  short  hours 
we  did  not  reach  the  barrier  till  six  in  the  evening.  Along 
the  whole  way  the  brigands  never  ceased  firing  their  muskets, 
and  it  was  useless  for  M.  de  la  Fayette  to  oppose  them ; 
they  shouted :  Vive  la  nation  !  A  has  les  Calotins !  X  has 
Ics  Frctres  !  M.  Bailly,  Mayor  of  Paris,  in  conformity  with 
an  ancient  custom  [so  insolent  and  derisory  at  this  moment], 
presented  my  father  with  the  keys  of  the  city  on  a  gold 
plate,  and  made  him  a  long  speech  in  which  he  spoke  of 
the  pleasure  the  good  city  of  Paris  would  have  in  possessing 
the  king,  whom  he  urgently  requested  to  go  at  once  to  the 
Hotel  de  Ville.  My  father  was  unwilling  to  consent,  say- 
ing it  would  take  too  long  and  fatigue  his  children  too 
mucL  Nevertheless,  M.  Bailly  insisted,  and  M.  de  la 
Fayette  being  of  the  same  opinion,  —  because  he  thought  it 
better  to  go  the  same  day  rather  than  wait  for  the  morrow 
when  they  would  be  forced  to  go,  —  my  father  decided  to 
do  so. 

Having  entered  Paris,  the  shouts,  the  clamour,  the  insults 
increased  with  the  mob  of  the  populace ;  it  took  us  two  hours 
to  reach  the  HStel  de  Ville.  My  father  had  ordered  all  per- 
sons in  his  suite  who  were  in  the  other  carriages  to  go 
straight  to  the  Tuileries  ;  he  therefore  went  alone  with  his 
family  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where  the  municipality  and 
M.  Bailly  received  him,  still  civilly,  and  made  him  another 
speech  on  their  joy  at  seeing  that  he  wished  to  establish 
himself  in  Paris.  My  father  answered  in  a  few  words,  from 
which  they  could  see  that  he  felt  his  position  much.  They 
asked  him  to  rest  there  a  moment,  as  he  had  now  been  eight 
hours  in  the  carriage.  The  People,  who  filled  the  square, 
shouted  loudly  and  demanded  to  see  the  king ;  he  placed 
himself  therefore  at  a  window  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  as 
it  was  now  dark  they  brought  torches  in  order  to  recognize 


210  MADAMi:  Elisabeth  dk  france.  [km 

him.     Then  wo  ajjain  Rot  iiUo  the  carriaj^c  luul  reached  the 
TuiK>rie.><  jiL  ten  i)'eh»ek. 

Thus  i»ftsseil  that  fatal  day,  the  opening  epoch  of  the  im- 
prisonment of  the  royal  family  and  the  beginning  of  the 
outrages  and  cruelties  it  was  to  bear  in  the  end.  The  rest  of 
this  year,  and  the  year  of  1790  were  passed  in  a  continual 
struggle  between  the  Koyal  Power  ami  that  arrogated  to 
itself  by  the  Assembly,  the  latter  always  gaining  the  upper 
hand,  although  no  very  remarkable  events  happened  during 
tliat  time  relating  to  the  personal  situation  of  my  family. 


Flight  of  my  Father  ;  Stoppage  at  Varennes  ;  his  Return 
to  Paris. 

On  the  20th  of  June,  1790,  my  father  and  mother  seemed 
to  me  greatly  agitated  during  the  whole  day  and  much  oc- 
cupied, without  my  knowing  the  reason.  After  dinner  they 
sent  us,  my  Ijrother  and  me,  into  another  room,  and  shut 
themselves  into  their  own,  alone  with  my  aunt.  I  knew 
later  that  this  was  the  moment  when  they  told  the  latter  of 
their  plan  for  escaping  by  flight  from  the  durance  under 
which  they  were  living.  At  five  o'clock  my  mother  went  to 
walk  with  my  brother  and  me ;  during  our  walk  my  mother 
took  me  aside  from  her  suite,  and  told  me  not  to  be  uneasy 
at  anything  that  I  might  see ;  that  we  might  be  separated, 
but  not  for  long ;  I  understood  nothing  of  this  confidence. 
Thereupon  she  kissed  me  and  said  that  if  the  ladies  of  the 
suite  questioned  me  as  to  this  conversation  I  was  to  say  that 
she  had  scolded  me  and  forgiven  me.  We  returned  about 
seven  o'clock  and  I  went  to  my  room  very  sad,  not  knowing 
what  to  think  of  what  my  mother  had  said  to  me.  I  passed 
the  rest  of  the   evening   alone ;   my   mother  had   induced 


1790]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME  ROYALE.  217 

Mme.  de  Mackau,  my  subgoverness,  to  go  and  spend  a  few 
days  in  a  convent  of  which  she  was  very  fond,  and  had  also 
sent  into  the  country  a  young  girl  who  was  usually  with  me ; 
besides  which  she  ordered  me  to  send  away  all  my  servants 
except  one  woman. 

I  was  hardly  in  bed  before  my  mother  came  in  ;  she  told 
me  we  were  to  leave  at  once,  and  gave  her  orders  for  the  ar- 
rangements ;  she  said  to  Mme.  Brunyer,  my  waiting-woman, 
that  she  wished  her  to  follow  us,  but  that,  having  a  husband, 
she  was  free  to  remain.  That  [good]  woman  replied  im- 
mediately that  they  did  right  to  go,  and  as  for  her  she  should 
not  hesitate  to  leave  her  husband  and  follow  us  everywhere. 
My  mother  was  touched  by  that  mark  of  attachment.  She 
then  went  down  to  bid  good-night  to  Monsieur  and  Madame, 
who  had  supped  with  her  as  usual.  Monsieur  was  already 
informed  of  the  departure ;  on  returning  to  his  own  apart- 
ment he  went  to  bed,  and  then,  having  sent  away  all  his 
people,  he  rose  [without  noise  and,  disguising  himself  as  an 
English  merchant]  he  started  with  one  of  his  gentlemen, 
M.  d'Avaray,  who,  by  his  intelligence  and  devotion  enabled 
him  to  escape  [or  surmount]  all  the  dangers  of  the 
route. 

As  for  Madame,  she  was  wholly  ignorant  of  the  intended 
journey,  and  it  was  not  until  after  she  was  in  bed  that  one 
of  her  women  came  and  told  her  she  was  ordered  by  the 
king  and  Monsieur  to  take  her  without  delay  out  of  the 
kingdom.  She  started  at  once,  and  met  Monsieur  at  the  first 
post  where  they  relayed,  without  appearing  to  know  each 
other,  and  so  arrived  safely  at  Brussels. 

My  mother  had  already  been  to  wake  my  brother,  whom 
Mme.  de  Tourzel  took  down  to  her  entresol.  Having  gone 
there  with  him  we  there  found  awaiting  us  one  of  the  Gardes 
du  Corps  who  was  to  be  our  guide.     My  mother  came  several 


218  MAI  "A. mi:  f:i.iSAnKTii  ni:  kkance.  (ituo 

lime^  to  oast  uix  eyo  uium  us  wliilo  luy  brother  was  beiiig 
ilrosstnl  us  a  little  girl;  lie  was  lunxvy  with  sleep,  and  did  nut 
kiu»w  what  was  haj)i)eniiig.  Al  hall-i>asl  icn  we  were  ready; 
inv  inolhiT  tt»ok  us  hei-self  to  the  carriage  iu  the  middle  of 
the  courtyan.1  aiul  }«ut  us  into  it,  my  brother  and  me  and 
Mine,  do  Tourzel.  M.  de  Fersen,  a  Swedish  noble  in  the 
service  of  France,  served  us  as  coachman.  To  throw  people 
off  the  .scent  we  made  several  turns  in  Paris  and  retiuned  to 
the  little  Carrousel  near  the  Tuileries  to  wait  for  my  father 
and  mother.  My  brother  was  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the 
carriage  under  Mme.  de  Tourzel's  gown. 

"NVe  saw  M.  de  la  Fayette  pass  close  by  us,  going  to  the 
king's  coucher.  "We  waited  there  a  full  hour  in  the  greatest 
iinj>atieuce  and  uneasiness  at  my  parents '  long  delay.  Dur- 
ing the  journey  Mme.  de  Tourzel  was  to  pass  for  a  Baronne 
de  Korff,  my  mother  as  Mme.  Bonnet,  governess  of  the  lady's 
children;  my  father,  under  the  name  of  Durand,  as  valet  de 
chambre ;  my  aunt,  named  Eosalie,  as  the  lady's  companion, 
and  my  brother  and  I  for  the  two  daughters  of  Mme.  de  Korfl", 
named  Am<jlie  and  Agla6.  The  two  waiting-women  followed 
us  in  a  caliche.  The  three  Gardes  du  Corps  who  accompa- 
nied us  passed  for  servants ;  one  was  on  horseback,  one  on  the 
can-iage,  and  the  third  went  before  us  as  courier. 

After  waiting  one  hour  I  saw  a  woman  approach  and  walk 
round  our  carriage ;  it  made  me  fear  we  were  discovered, 
but  I  was  soon  reassured  by  seeing  the  coachman  open  the 
carriage  door  to  admit  my  aunt ;  she  had  escaped  alone  with 
one  other  person.  On  entering  the  carriage  she  trod  upon 
my  brother,  who  was  hidden  at  the  bottom  of  it ;  he  had  the 
the  courage  not  to  utter  a  cry.  She  assured  us  that  all  was 
quiet  at  Ck)urt,  and  that  my  father  and  mother  would  soon 
come.  In  fact,  the  kmg  came  almost  immediately,  and  then 
my  mother  with  a  member  of  the  Gardes  du  Corps,  who  was 


1790]  NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  219 

to  follow  us.  We  then  started.  At  first  nothing  happened 
until  we  reached  the  barrier,  where  we  were  to  find  the  post- 
carriage  which  was  there  to  take  us  on.  M.  de  Fersen  did 
not  know  precisely  where  it  would  be ;  we  were  obliged  to 
wait  a  rather  long  time  and  my  father  got  out,  which  made 
us  uneasy.  At  last  M.  de  Fersen  came  with  the  other  car- 
riage, into  which  we  got ;  that  done,  he  bade  my  father  good- 
night, mounted  iiis  horse,  and  disappeared.^ 

Nothing  remarkable  happened  to  us  during  the  next  morn- 
ing. At  Etoges  we  were  on  the  point  of  being  recognized, 
and  at  Chalons-sur-Marne,  which  we  passed  through  at  four 
in  the  afternoon,  we  were  so  completely.  The  inhabitants 
seemed  well-intentioned ;  a  great  number  of  them  were 
charmed  to  see  their  king  and  offered  wishes  for  the  success 
of  his  flight.  At  the  post  after  Chalons,  where  we  ought  to 
have  found  troops  on  horseback  to  convoy  the  carriage  to 
Montm^dy,  we  found  none ;  and  we  waited  there,  expecting 
them,  till  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening ;  then,  going  on,  we 
reached  Clermont,  where  we  saw  troops,  but  the  rioters  of 
the  village  would  not  allow  them  to  mount  their  horses. 
One  of  their  officers  recognizing  the  king,  approached  the 
carriage  and  told  him  in  a  low  voice  that  he  was  betrayed. 
We  continued  our  way  in  agitation  and  anxiety,  which,  how- 

1  Footnote  to  the  above,  written  by  Louis  XVIII.  "  I  think  that  the 
last  two  words  should  be  erased  and  the  following  substituted  :  '  and  re- 
turned to  Paris,  where,  having  assured  himself  that  all  was  quiet,  he  took 
the  road  to  the  Low  Countries,  arriving  tliere  without  accident.'  All  that 
is  true,  and  for  a  thousand  reasons  of  which  my  niece  is  ignorant,  and  of 
which  I  hope  she  will  always  remain  ignorant,  it  is  proper  that  she  should 
show  interest  in  a  man  who  on  that  day  showed  so  much  devotion." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Count  Fersen  drove  the  party  to  Bondy,  one  hour 
and  a  half  beyond  tiie  barrier,  where  he  left  them  at  tiie  king's  request ; 
the  royal  family  continuing  along  the  post-road,  and  Count  Fersen  taking, 
on  horseback,  the  cross-roads  to  Bourgct  and  thence  to  Mons.  See  "  Diary 
and  Correspondence  of  Count  Axel  Fersen "  in  the  present  Historical 
Series.  —  Tk. 
15  Mem.  Ver.  9 


2-0  MADAMK  f:i,isAr.i;rii  ni;  iuam'K.  [1790 

owr,  iiul  iu>i  provciu  ii.s  fmiu  .slrcjiiii^' ;  Imt  hiiviiig  been 
uwukened  hy  a  vit)leiiL  ji)lt,  they  eaiiie  and  l«»lil  us  they  were 
iguurant  t.>f  what  hail  beeonie  of  llie  courier  who  preceileil 
us.  It  can  be  iuiagined  in  what  fear  we  wore ;  we  supposed 
ho  had  been  reeognized  and  captured. 

We  arrived  at  the  entrance  to  the  village  of  Vareuues,  a 
very  small  place  where  there  were  scarcely  a  hundred  houses 
and  no  post-house ;  so  that  travellers  arriving  there  were 
obliged  to  get  their  horses  from  elsewhere.  Those  intended 
for  us  were  really  there,  but  at  the  chateau  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  and  none  of  our  people  knew  it ;  besides  which, 
our  postilions  protested  that  their  horses  were  tired  and 
could  go  no  farther.  Our  courier  then  appeared,  and  with 
him  a  man  whom  he  believed  to  be  in  our  secret,  but  who 
was  really,  as  we  had  reason  to  believe,  a  spy  of  M.  de  la 
Fayette.  He  came  to  the  carriage  in  a  night-cap  and  dress- 
ing-gown, put  himself  almost  into  it,  and  said  he  knew  a 
secret  but  could  not  tell  it.  Mme.  de  Tourzel  having  asked 
him  if  he  knew  Mme.  de  Korff,  he  said  no ;  except  those 
words,  said  while  he  looked  fixedly  at  my  father,  it  was  im- 
possible to  get  anything  from  him. 

They  succeeded  at  last  in  persuading  the  postilions  that 
the  horses  were  at  the  chateau  and  that  they  must  take  us 
there ;  they  therefore  drove  on ;  but  very  slowly.  As  we 
entered  the  village  we  were  shocked  by  the  dreadful  cries 
around  the  carriage :  "  Stop !  stop ! "  Then  the  horses'  heads 
were  seized  and,  in  a  moment,  the  carriage  was  surrounded 
by  a  number  of  armed  men  with  torches ;  it  was  then  eleven 
o'clock  at  night.  They  asked  us  who  we  were ;  we  said : 
Mme.  de  Korff,  and  her  family.  They  put  their  torches  close 
to  my  father's  face,  and  told  us  to  get  out ;  we  refused,  saying 
we  were  simple  travellers  and  ought  to  be  allowed  to  pass ; 
they  repeated  loudly  that  we  must  get  out  or  they  would  kill 


1T90]  NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  221 

US  all,  and  we  saw  their  guns  pointed  at  the  carriage.  We 
were  therefore  forced  to  get  out.  As  we  passed  along  the 
street  we  saw  six  dragoons  on  horseback  ;  unfortunately  there 
was  no  officer  with  them,  for  six  determined  men  could  have 
awed  those  people  and  saved  the  king.  We  were  taken  to 
the  house  of  a  man  named  Sauce,  mayor  of  Varennes  and  a 
dealer  in  candles. 

While  the  tocsin  sounded  and  the  people  uttered  cries,  my 
father  kept  himself  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room ;  but 
unfortunately  his  portrait  was  there,  and  the  people  gazed  at 
him  and  the  picture  alternately.  My  mother  and  Mme.  de 
Tourzel  complained  loudly  of  the  injustice  of  our  stoppage, 
saymg  that  she  was  travelling  quietly  with  her  family  under 
a  government  passport,  and  that  the  king  was  not  with  us. 
The  crowd  increased,  but  in  spite  of  the  dreadful  noise,  our 
three  Gardes  du  Corps  went  to  sleep.  We  were  all  packed 
together  in  a  very  small  room,  and  many  of  the  villagers  were 
there  with  us.  They  sent  for  the  judge,  to  examine  my  father 
and  decide  if  he  was  the  king.  Having  done  so,  he  said 
nothing.  My  aunt  asking  impatiently  if  he  believed  it  was 
my  father,  he  still  said  nothing,  but  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven. 

Meantime  M.  de  Choiseul  and  Goguelat,  officers  appointed 
to  bring  troops  to  meet  us,  arrived,  but  without  soldiers ; 
they  said  they  could  not  bring  them  because  the  bridge  was 
blocked  by  a  cart.^ 

1  This,  of  course,  is  the  narrative  of  a  young  girl,  given,  no  doubt,  witli 
her  natural  conscientiousness.  It  ought  to  be  compared  with  the  Due  de 
Choiseul's  own  account,  which  seems  to  have  satisfied  Coimt  Fersen,  the 
man  wliose  plan  was  ruined.  See  "  Diary  and  Corr.  of  Count  Axel 
Fersen,"  pp.  271-277. 

The  failure  of  the  escape  was  due  to  four  causes  :  (1)  the  carelessness 
of  young  Bouille  ;  (2)  his  father,  the  Marquis  de  Bouillc's  error  in  waiting 
on  the  frontier;  (3)  the  delay  of  four  or  five  hours  after  leaving  Chalons, 
for  no  real  reason  ;  (4)  the  king's  want  of  character;  it  is  plain  that  had 
he  taken  the  situation  by  the  horns  and  commanded  it,  he  could  easily 
have  saved  himself  and  family.  —  Tu. 


2'J2  MADAMi;    1:L1SAI;K111    ok    lliAN'ClC.  [1190 

Ai  la.-^l,  rM'iy  i>iu'  iliH'lariii^'  hiiiiscU'  convinced  that  my 
father  nvjus  iho  kinj,',  he,  sci'ing  ihaL  he  hud  uu  means  of 
escaiK'  took  llu'  course  of  disedosiug  liimself;  and  having 
said  he  was  llie  Uini,'.  all  i>iesini  tlirew  themselves  at  his 
feet  and  kissed  his  liands ;  among  others,  a  major,  named 
KoUin.who  had  insulted  my  lather  before  he  reeognized  liim, 
now  fell  at  his  feet  and  protested  all  that  a  faithful  subject 
could  think  or  feel.  He  then  rose  as  if  furious,  and  retired. 
'1  he  whole  family  of  the  house  also  surrounded  my  father, 
and  the  tt)csin  still  sounded.  But  in  spite  of  these  signs  of 
devotion,  they  said  he  must  not  pass,  for  it  was  dreadful  in 
him  to  abandon  his  people,  and  that  he  ought  to  return  to 
Paris. 

Things  were  thus  when,  at  three  in  the  morning,  two 
agents  of  ^I.  de  la  Fayette,  sent  in  pursuit  of  my  father, 
MM.  Baillon  and  Komeuf,  arrived,  and  they  insisted  vigorously 
on  his  return  to  Paris.  M.  Baillon  let  my  father  know  that 
he  came  from  the  city  of  Paris  to  beg  him  to  return,  saying 
that  they  were  in  despair  at  his  having  quitted  it  as  he  had 
done,  and  that  he  ought  necessarily  to  return. 

Nevertheless,  we  tried  on  our  side  to  delay  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, to  gain  time,  and  wait  to  see  if  help  would  not  arrive. 
On  the  other  hand,  those  who  had  stopped  us  pressed  us  ex- 
tremely to  start,  being  in  the  greatest  fear  that  in  so  small 
a  place  as  Varennes  and  so  near  the  frontier,  the  king  might 
be  canied  off,  which  could  very  easily  have  happened  if  any 
one  had  been  there  who  had  any  head. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  the  son  of  M.  de  Bouilld 
was  waiting,  but  as  he  had  been  three  consecutive  nights 
without  sleep,  fatigue  overcame  him,  and  he  did  not  wake 
till  the  next  morning,  to  hear  of  the  stoppage  of  the 
king  and  his  return  to  Paris.  The  other  ofticers,  who  were 
on  this  side  of  the  river,  MM.  de  Damas  and  de  Choiseul, 


1790]  NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  223 

got  lost  in  the  woods,  having  taken  too  long  a  road ;  their 
horses  were  exhausted,  and  they  did  not  arrive  until  long 
after  we  were  stopped ;  so  thai  seeing  the  affair  had  failed, 
they  were  in  despair  and  did  not  have  the  patience  [the 
thought]  or  perhaps  the  means  to  go  in  search  of  the  Mar- 
quis de  Bouill^  who  was  waiting  for  us  two  posts  beyond 
Varennes.  At  last,  at  six  in  the  morning,  seeing  there  was 
no  remedy  or  help  to  be  looked  for,  we  were  absolutely  forced 
to  take  the  road  back  to  Paris. 

During  all  this  catastrophe  we  never  saw  the  famous 
Drouet,  who  made  so  much  talk  about  the  part  he  was  said 
to  have  played ;  it  is  true  that,  on  leaving  Clermont,  we  saw 
a  man  on  horseback,  who  passed  our  carriage,  and  it  may 
have  been  he.  As  for  the  other,  named  Guillaume,  we  saw 
him,  but  not  until  after  my  father  had  made  himself  known ; 
and  that  man  said  he  had  not  recognized  him,  but  only  my 
aunt,  whom  he  saw  at  the  Federation. 

We  therefore  got  into  the  carriage,  but  not  without  danger ; 
they  did  not  wish  our  three  Gardes  du  Corps  to  accompany 
us,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  they  at  last  permitted 
them  to  sit  on  the  box  of  the  carriage ;  the  other  officers 
were  more  exposed,  and  were  afterwards  imprisoned  and  taken 
to  Orleans.  .  .  .  Arriving  at  Sainte-Menehould  at  half-past 
three  o'clock,  we  were  allowed  to  leave  the  carriage  for  the 
first  time  since  six  in  the  morning.  They  took  us  to  the 
house  of  the  mayor,  named  Farcy.  This  man  had  formerly 
served  at  Court,  but  was  much  dissatisfied  with  abuses  he 
declared  he  had  seen  there.  His  wife  came  repeatedly  to 
my  father,  saying,  "  But  why  did  you  wish  to  leave  us  ? "  In 
vain  did  they  tell  her,  as  they  did  to  others,  that  my  father 
did  not  mean  to  leave  them,  but  only  to  go  to  Montm^dy, 
which  was  really  his  project ;  but  the  people  would  listen  to 
nothing  and  could  not  be  pacified, 


224  MADA.Mi:  i:lisai;i:tji  de  fkance.  [itho 

While  we  were  at  diuner  a  man  named  Bodaud  arrived 
dei'uly  of  the  Commune  of  runs,  to  beg  my  father  m  the 
mime  of  that  city,  to  retm-u  to  it  as  soon  as  possible;  my 
father,  being  no  longer  master  of  doing  otherwise,  could  only 
let  himself  be  led.  As  soon  as  we  hud  dined,  we  returned 
to  the  carriage,  and  an  hour  later  met  a  gentleman  of  the 
neighbourhood  named  1  )anii)ierre,  who,  in  despair  at  the  king's 
l)eing  stopped,  came  to  see  him,  but  did  not  reach  our  car- 
riage, only  that  of  the  waiting-women.  The  peasants  knew 
him  to  be  what  they  called  an  aristocrat,  and  showed  them- 
selves very  ill-disposed  towards  him.  Our  women  begged 
him  to  go  away,  but  hardly  had  he  spurred  his  horse  before 
the  people  who  surrounded  the  carriages  fired  at  him;  he  was 
flung  to  the  ground,  and  a  man  on  horseback  rode  over  him 
and  struck  him  several  blows  with  a  sabre ;  others  did  the 
same,  and  soon  killed  him.  The  scene,  which  took  place 
close  to  our  carriage  and  under  our  eyes,  was  horrible  for  us ; 
but  more  dreadful  still  was  the  fury  of  these  wretches,  who, 
not  content  with  having  killed  him,  wanted  to  drag  his  body 
to  our  carriage  and  show  it  to  my  father.  He  objected  with 
all  his  strength ;  the  postilions,  however,  would  not  advance ! 
but  at  last  one  man,  more  humane  than  the  others,  went  to 
the  postilions  pistol  in  hand,  threatening  to  shoot  them  if 
they  did  not  go  on  ;  so  at  last  they  started.  In  spite  of  that, 
these  cannibals  came  on  triumphantly,  round  the  carriage, 
holding  up  the  hat,  coat,  and  clothing  of  the  unfortunate 
iJarapierre;  and,  paymg  no  attention  to  my  father's  en- 
treaties, they  carried  these  horrible  trophies  beside  us  along 
the  road.  It  was  thus  that  we  passed  the  rest  of  that  day 
in  the  midst  of  insults  and  perils. 

At  last,  at  eleven  at  night  we  reached  Chalons.  There  we 
heard  of  the  arrest  of  M.  de  Briges,  the  king's  equerry,  who, 
hearing  of  my  father's  departure  from  Paris,  had  left  his  regi- 


1790]  NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME    ROYALE.  225 

ment  to  join  liiin.  He  was  met  on  the  way  by  M.  Baillon, 
M.  de  la  Fayette's  emissary,  who,  seeing  that  he  had  no 
posthorses,  took  him  with  liim,  brought  him  to  Chalons,  and 
there,  with  the  cruellest  treachery,  denounced  him,  and  had 
him  arrested.  Such  was  the  reward  of  his  love  and  attach- 
ment to  his  king.  Hearing  of  our  arrival  at  Chilons,  M.  de 
Briges  asked  to  see  my  father,  but  in  vain,  and  he  had  the 
pain  of  listening  to  the  insults  heaped  upon  him.  We  were 
taken  to  the  ]\Iaison-Eoyale  at  Chalons,  where  we  were  well- 
lodged  and  well-treated.  The  inhabitants  of  the  town 
seemed  well-disposed,  especially  the  mayor,  M.  Eose,  and 
the  military  commander  M.  Eeubel,  a  former  Garde  du  Corps. 
My  mother  even  found  in  her  room  a  man  who  proposed  to 
her  to  escape,  which  she  refused,  fearing  treachery  and  seeing 
moreover  countless  dii^ficulties. 

We  were  all  so  fatigued  at  having  passed  two  nights  in  up- 
roar and  terror  that  we  slept  soundly.  The  next  day,  we 
resumed  the  clothes  belonging  to  our  rank,  and  my  brother 
was  again  dressed  as  a  boy.  Throughout  that  morning  many 
persons  came  to  see  my  father,  and  did  so  from  interest  and 
in  no  way  with  insult,  as  had  been  shown  elsewhere.  My 
brother,  especially,  enchanted  every  one  by  his  amiability. 
This  was  the  day  of  the  Fete-Dieu,  and  they  took  us  to  mass 
at  ten  in  the  morning ;  but  the  Offertory  had  scarcely  begun 
before  we  heard  a  great  noise,  and  they  came  to  tell  my 
father  that  we  must  leave  the  mass  at  once,  because  the 
enemy  was  arriving.  It  was  M.  de  Bouilld  and  his  troops  of 
whom  they  thus  spoke.  We  were  therefore  taken  to  our 
rooms  and  shut  up  there,  where  we  stayed  quite  a.  long  time. 
They  served  us  a  dinner,  but  in  the  middle  of  it  another 
alarm  was  sounded  and  they  obliged  us  to  start  at  once.  Of 
all  the  places  we  passed  through,  Chfdons  was  the  one  where 
we  were  best  treated  by  the  inhabitants.  ... 


1»-J6  MADA.Mi:    Kl.l.sAlJKlH    DK    FUANCE.  [17'JO 

We  miilu'd  Ki)t'rnay  at  three  in  the  afteruoon.  It  was 
ihore  that  luy  father  ran  tlie  greatest  daii^HU'  of  the  whole 
j»>urnev.  lnia«;ine  tlie  eourtyanl  of  the  hoU'l  wlu-re  we  were 
lo  get  out  tilK'il  wiih  angry  people  armed  wiih  pikes,  who 
surroumled  the  earriage  in  such  crowds  that  it  couhl  nt)t 
enter  the  courtyard.  We  were  therefore  absolutely  obliged 
to  leave  it  outside  and  cross  that  courtyard  on  foot  amid  the 
hoots  of  these  people  who  said  openly  they  wished  to  kill  us. 
Of  all  the  awful  moments  I  have  known,  this  was  one  of 
those  which  struck  me  most,  and  the  horrible  impression  of 
it  will  never  leave  me. 

Entering  the  house  at  last,  they  made  us  eat  a  miserable 
meal.  In  spite  of  all  the  threats  of  the  ferocious  populace 
to  massacre  every  one,  they  did  not  go  farther  and  we  started 
from  fipernay  about  six  in  the  evening.  Just  then  they 
came  to  tell  us  that  deputies  of  the  National  Assembly  were 
arriving.  These  were  Potion,  Barnave,  Maubourg,  Dumas, 
commandant  of  the  Garde  of  the  Assembly,  and  his  nephew 
La  Eue.  At  the  moment  that  the  deputies  approached  our 
carriage,  an  unfortunate  priest  who  had  not  taken  the  oath 
was  close  by  it ;  the  peasants,  who  wished  to  kill  him,  had 
thrown  him  on  the  ground,  but  a  Garde  on  horseback  picked 
him  up,  put  him  behind  him  and  rode  up  to  us.  At  that 
moment  the  murderers  tried  to  seize  him  again  under  the  very 
eyes  of  the  deputies.  My  mother  cried  out  to  Barnave  to 
save  him,  which  he  succeeded  in  doing  through  the  ascen- 
dency he  had  over  the  people,  and  the  poor  priest  escaped 
with  only  a  wound. 

The  deputies,  having  approached  the  carriage,  told  my 
father  that  by  order  of  the  National  Assembly  they  were 
charged  to  bring  him  back  to  Paris,  blaming  him  at  the  same 
time  for  wishing  to  leave  France.  My  father  answered  that 
he  had  never  had  any  intention  of  leaving  his  kingdom,  bui 


1790]  NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  227 

'  only  that  of  going  to  Montmddy.  The  deputies  then,  declar- 
ing they  were  ordered  not  to  let  us  out  of  sight,  said  they 
must  get  into  our  carriage ;  but,  as  it  could  not  hold  so  many 
persons,  they  arranged  that  my  aunt  and  I  should  go  in  their 
carriage  with  Maubourg,  and  that  Potion  and  Barnave  should 
sit  with  my  father  and  mother.  But  my  aunt  and  I  abso- 
lutely refused  to  leave  the  carriage.  In  spite  of  that  they 
entered  it,  and  though  there  was  no  room,  Potion  placed 
himself  between  my  father  and  my  mother,  who  was  thus 
forced  to  take  my  brother  on  her  knees.  Barnave  sat 
between  my  aunt,  who  placed  me  before  her,  and  Mme.  de 
Tourzel.  These  deputies  talked  much  and  disclosed  openly 
their  manner  of  thinking ;  to  which  my  mother  and  my  aunt 
replied  rather  energetically.  This  Potion  was  a  great  rascal, 
as  he  proved  later,  and  Barnave  was  a  small  lawyer  of 
Dauphin^  who  wanted  to  play  a  part  under  the  circum- 
stances. Maubourg  was  [a  man  of  another  species,  but]  an 
insignificant  being  who  had  let  himself  be  drawn  into  the 
Eevolution  without  kuowmg  w^hy. 

We  reached  Dormans  in  the  evening,  and  slept  at  a  little 
inn.  The  deputies  were  lodged  side  by  side  with  us.  Our 
wmdows  looked  on  the  street,  which  all  night  long  was  filled 
with  the  populace  shouting,  and  wanting  us  to  go  on  in  the 
middle  of  the  night ;  but  the  deputies  no  doubt  wanted  to 
rest  themselves,  and  so  we  stayed.  My  brother  was  ill  all 
night  and  almost  had  delirium,  so  shocked  was  he  by  the 
dreadful  things  he  had  seen  on  the  preceding  day. 

The  next  day,  June  24th,  nothing  liappened  of  importance, 
except  impertinent  speeches  from  tlie  deputies,  yells  and 
insults  from  the  people,  and  the  excessive  heat  which  over- 
came us  because  we  were,  as  I  have  said,  eight  persons  in  a 
carriage  holding  only  four. 

We  .stopped  for  dinnej-  .at  Fertd-la-Jouarre  ;    where  mj 


•j-js  MAPAMi:  r.i.isAi'.r/ni  dk  rKANCi-:.  [itdo 

falhor  wns  wt'll-receivod  by  the  nmyor,  iinniod  Kenard,  who 
hail  the  lU'licat'v  to  pivvont  any  one  from  oiiLoriug  his  house 
or  gjinU'n.  Wo  wi'ie  lohl  that  our  three  Gardes  du  Corps  must 
be  left  behind,  because  there  was  no  safety  for  tliein  in  Taris. 
They  remained,  nevertheless,  with  us  and  nothing  happened 
to  them.  .  .  .  We  slept  at  Meaux  in  the  bishop's  house,  full 
of  priests  who  had  taken  the  oath,  but  otherwise  civil 
enough ;  the  bislu)p  himself  served  us.  They  informed  us 
that  we  must  start  the  next  day  at  five  in  the  morning  so  as 
to  reach  Paris  in  good  season. 

We  started  at  six,  and  though  it  is  only  ten  leagues  from 
Meaux  to  Paris,  we  did  not  reach  Bondy,  the  last  post,  till 
midday  nor  the  Tuileries  till  half-past  seven  at  night.  At 
Bondy  the  populace  showed  its  desire  to  massacre  our  three 
Gardes-du- Corps,  and  my  father  did  all  he  could  to  save 
them,  in  which,  it  must  be  owned,  the  deputies  eagerly 
seconded  him.  The  crowd  we  met  along  the  road  was  in- 
numerable, so  that  we  could  scarcely  advance.  The  insults 
with  which  the  people  loaded  us  were  our  only  food  through- 
out the  day.  In  the  faubourgs  of  Paris  the  crowd  was  even 
greater,  and  among  all  those  persons  we  saw  but  one  woman 
fairly  well-dressed  who  showed  by  her  tears  the  interest  she 
took  in  ua. 

On  the  Place  Louis  XV.  was  M.  de  la  Fayette,  apparently 
at  the  summit  of  joy  at  the  success  of  the  blow  he  had  just 
struck;  he  was  there,  surrounded  by  a  people  submissive 
to  his  orders ;  he  could  have  destroyed  my  father  at  once, 
but  he  preferred  to  save  him  longer  in  order  that  he  might 
serve  his  own  designs. 

We  were  made  to  drive  through  the  garden  of  the  Tuile- 
ries, surrounded  by  weapons  of  all  sorts,  and  muskets  which 
almost  touched  us.  WTien  the  deputies  said  anything  to  the 
people  they  were  instantly  obeyed,  and  it  is  no  doubt  to  their 


1790]  NAKRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  229 

intentions  (good  or  bad)  that  my  father  owed  his  preservation 
at  that  moment ;  for  had  those  deputies  not  been  with  us  it 
is  more  than  likely  we  should  then  have  been  murdered.  It 
was  they  also  who  saved  the  Gardes  du  Corps. 

On  arriving  at  the  Tuileries  and  gettmg  out  of  the  car- 
riage, we  were  almost  carried  off  our  feet  by  the  enormous 
crowd  that  filled  the  staircase.  My  father  went  up  first, 
with  my  mother  and  my  brother.  As  for  me,  I  was  to  go 
with  my  aunt,  and  one  of  the  deputies  took  me  in  his  arms 
to  carry  me  up.  In  vain  did  I  cry  for  my  aunt ;  the  noise 
was  so  dreadful  she  could  not  hear  me.  At  last  we  were 
all  reunited  in  the  king's  room,  where  were  nearly  all  the 
deputies  of  the  National  Assembly,  who,  however,  seemed 
very  civil  and  did  not  stay  long.  My  father  entered  the 
inner  rooms  with  his  family,  and  seeing  them  all  in  safety, 
I  left  him  and  went  to  my  own  apartments,  being  quite 
worn  out  with  fatigue  and  inanition.  I  did  not  know  imtil 
the  next  morning  what  took  place  that  evening.  Guards 
were  placed  over  the  whole  family,  with  orders  not  to  let 
them  out  of  sight,  and  to  stay  night  and  day  in  their 
chambers.  My  father  had  them  in  his  room  at  night,  but 
in  the  daytime  they  were  stationed  in  the  next  room.  ]My 
mother  would  not  allow  them  to  be  in  the  room  where  she 
slept  with  a  waiting-woman,  but  they  stayed  in  the  adjoining 
room  with  the  doors  open.  j\Iy  brother  had  them  also,  night 
and  day ;  but  my  aunt  and  1  had  none.  ]\I.  do  la  Fayette 
even  proposed  to  my  aunt  to  leave  the  Tuileries,  if  she 
wished  to  do  so,  but  she  replied  that  she  would  never  sepa- 
rate from  the  king. 

My  father  and  mother  could  not  leave  their  rooms,  not 
even  to  go  to  churcli,  and  mass  was  said  in  their  apartments. 
No  one  could  enter  the  Tuileries  unless  by  cards  of  permis- 
sion, which  M.  de  la  Fayette  granted  to  few. 


2o0  MADAM  i;    I-.MSAUKlll    Di:    FUANCK.  [17'J-J 

Suoh  wjis  tlio  State  of  my  jiareiUs'  captivity  during  more 
than  iwi)  mDiilhs  until  the  acceptance  by  the  king  of  the 
Constitution.  After  that,  we  had  several  mouths  of  respite 
and  appauMit  tranquillity,  but  the  king  found  himself  in  a 
constant  struggle  with  the  Assembly,  wliich  ulcerated  all 
minds  more  and  more,  daily. 


Assault  on  the  Tuileries  hy  the  Populace  June  20,  1792. 

Under  the  circumstances  of  that  time  the  people  took  a 
mania  to  place  in  all  the  public  S(|uares  and  gardens  what 
were  called  "  liberty  trees ; "  these  were  little  trees  or  tall 
poles,  at  the  top  of  which  they  put  the  bonnet  rouge  with 
tricolour  ribbons  —  that  is  to  say,  red,  blue,  and  white.  They 
expressed  to  my  father  a  wish  to  plant  one  in  the  garden 
of  the  Tuileries,  and  he  acquiesced.  The  day  they  planted 
this  tree  was  made  a  species  of  revolutionary  fete,  somewhat 
like  that  formerly  given  at  the  planting  of  the  May  tree  on 
the  first  of  that  month.  They  triumphed  in  having  wrung 
this  consent  from  my  father,  and  to  celebrate  it  they  chose 
the  20th  of  June,  the  anniversary  of  our  departure  for 
Varennes,  and  the  fete  was  to  take  place  beneath  our  win- 
dows. From  all  these  signs  my  parents  could  augur  nothing 
gofjd  and  expect  nothing  but  fresh  insults  heaped  upon 
thenL 

Prexnous  to  this,  the  Assembly  had  exacted  that  the  king 
should  sign  their  decree  that  all  priests  who  had  not  taken 
the  oath  were  to  be  sent  out  of  France.  My  father  would 
not  acquiesce  in  that  decree,  and  had  put  his  veto  upon  it. 
This  veto  was  a  derisory  right  whicti  the  Assembly  allowed 
the  king  to  exercise  when  he  would  not  acquiesce  in  their 
propositions.     On  this  refusal,  they  exasperated  all  minds 


1792]  NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  231 

against  my  father,  constantly  seeking  to  force  liim  in  one 
way  or  another  to  give  his  consent  to  the  decree.  This, 
therefore,  was  the  concealed  object  they  wished  to  succeed 
in  on  the  occasion  of  this  fete. 

On  the  20th  of  June,  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
nearly  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  faubourgs  Saint- Antoine  and 
Saint-Marceau,  where  the  populace  chiefly  lived,  marched 
in  a  body  to  the  National  Assembly,  to  go  from  there  to  the 
garden  and  plant  the  liberty-tree.  But  as  they  were  all 
armed,  which  gave  reason  to  suspect  bad  intentions,  my 
father  ordered  the  gates  of  the  Tuileries  to  be  closed.  The 
Assembly  showed  great  dissatisfaction,  and  sent  a  depu- 
tation of  four  municipals  to  induce  the  king  to  order  the 
gates  to  be  opened.  These  deputies  spoke  very  insolently ; 
said  they  exacted  the  opening  of  the  gates  in  order  that 
those  who  had  come  to  plant  the  tree,  the  sign  of  liberty, 
might  return  that  way,  inasmuch  as  the  crowd  in  the  rue 
Saint-Honor^  was  too  gi-eat  to  allow  them  to  pass.  My 
father,  however,  persisted  in  his  refusal,  and  they  then 
went  and  opened  themselves  the  gates  of  the  garden, 
which  was  instantly  inundated  by  the  populace ;  the 
gates  of  the  courtyards  and  the  chateau  still  remained 
locked. 

An  hour  later  this  armed  procession  began  to  defile  before 
our  windows,  and  no  idea  can  be  formed  of  the  insults  they 
said  to  us.  Among  others,  they  carried  a  banner  on  which 
were  these  words :  "  Tremble,  tyrant ;  the  people  have  risen  ; " 
and  they  held  it  before  the  windows  of  my  father  who, 
though  he  was  not  visible  himself,  could  see  all  and  hear 
their  cries  of  "  Down  with  Veto ! "  and  other  horrors. 
This  lasted  until  three  o'clock,  when  the  garden  was  at 
last  freed.  The  crowd  then  passed  through  the  Place  du 
Carrousel  to   the  courtyards  of   tlie  Tuileries,  but  quietly, 


'2:V2  MAUAMK    f;i,ISAHKTlI    DK    FRANCE.  [17'J2 

niul  it  wns  pMUMiiUy  tluui^'ht  I  hey  wore  rot  inning  to  their 
faulxnirjjs. 

Durinj^  lliis  time  onr  family  \V(>ro  in  tlio  rooms  on  tlie 
courtyanl  side,  absolutely  alone  antl  observing  all  that  went 
on ;  the  gentlemen  of  the  suite  and  the  ladies  dined  on  the 
other  side.  Suddenly  we  saw  the  pmiulace  forcing  the  gates 
of  the  courtyard  and  rushing  to  the  staircase  of  the  chateau. 
It  was  a  horrible  sight  to  see,  and  impossible  to  describe  — 
that  of  these  people,  with  fury  in  their  faces,  armed  with 
pikes  and  sabres,  and  pell-mell  with  them  women  half  un- 
clothed, resembling  Furies. 

Two  of  the  ushers  wishing  to  nin  the  bolts  of  my  father's 
door,  he  prevented  it  and  sprang  himself  into  the  next  room 
to  meet  the  rioters.  My  aunt  followed  him  hastily,  and 
hardly  had  she  passed  when  the  door  was  locked.  My 
mother  and  I  ran  after  her  in  vain ;  we  could  not  pass,  and 
at  that  moment  several  persons  came  to  us,  and  finally,  the 
guard.  My  mother  cried  out :  "  Save  my  son ! "  Imme- 
diately some  one  took  him  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  off. 
^ly  mother  and  I,  being  determined  to  follow  my  brother,  did 
all  we  could  against  the  persons  who  prevented  us  from 
passing;  prayers,  efforts,  all  were  useless,  and  we  had  to 
remain  in  our  room  in  mortal  anxiety.  My  mother  kept 
hor  courage,  but  it  almost  abandoned  her  when,  at  last, 
entering  my  brother's  room  she  could  not  find  him.  The 
persons  who,  on  her  own  order,  had  carried  him  away  lost 
their  heads,  and  in  the  confusion,  took  hira  up  higher  in 
the  chateau,  where  they  thought  him  in  greater  safety. 
My  mother  then  sent  for  him  and  had  him  brought  back 
to  his  room.  There  we  awaited,  in  tlie  silence  of  profound 
anxiety,  for  news  of  what  had  happened  to  my  father. 

Returning  to  him,  I  must  resume  at  the  moment  when 
he  passed  through  the  door  which  was  then  locked  against 


1792]  NAKRATIVE    OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  233 

US.  As  soon  as  he  thought  the  danger  passed  the  king  dis- 
missed his  suite,  so  that  no  one  was  with  him  but  my  Aunt 
Elisabeth,  [Mar^chal  de  Mouchy  (who  in  spite  of  his  77 
years  and  my  father's  order  persisted  in  remaining),  two  old 
ushers,  the  brave  Aeloque,  commander  of  the  division  of  the 
National  Guard,  an  example  of  fidelity  in  the  uniform  of  re- 
bellion],^ and  M.  d'Hervilly,  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  new 
King's-Guard,  who,  seeing  the  danger,  ran  to  call  the  Guard 
and  collected  about  twenty  grenadiers,  but  on  reaching  the 
staircase  he  found  only  six  had  followed ;  the  others  had 
abandoned  him.  My  father  was  therefore  almost  alone 
when  the  door  was  forced  in  by  one  sapeur,  axe  in  hand 
raised  to  strike  him,  but  [here]  by  his  coolness  and  imper- 
turbable courage  my  father  so  awed  the  assassin  that  the 
weapon  fell  from  his  hand,  —  an  event  almost  incomprehen- 
sible. It  is  said  that  some  one  cried  out :  "  Unhappy  man, 
what  are  you  about  to  do  ? "  and  that  those  words  petrified 
him  ;  for  my  part  I  think  that  what  restrained  that  wretch 
was  Divine  Providence  and  the  ascendancy  that  virtue  always 
maintains  over  crime. 

The  blow  having  thus  failed,  the  other  accomplices,  see- 
ing that  their  leader  had  let  himself  be  cowed,  dared  not 
execute  their  evil  designs.  Of  all  this  mass  of  the  populace, 
there  were  certainly  very  few  who  knew  precisely  what  they 
were  expected  to  do.  To  each  had  been  given  twenty  sous 
and  a  musket ;  they  were  sent  in  drunk  with  orders  to  insult 
us  in  every  imaginable  way.  Their  leader,  Santerre,  had 
l)rought  them  as  far  as  tlie  courtyard,  and  there  he  awaited 
the  success  of  his  enterprise.  He  was  desperate  on  learning 
that  his  stroke  had  missed,  and  he  came  near  being  killed 
himself   by  a  man    in    the    chateau,  who   aimed  for   him, 

1  This  entire  passage  was  rewritten,  corrected,  and  the  additions  made 
hy  Louis  XVIII.  — Ik.  Eu. 


2;>4  MAUAMK    fll.ISABKTII    DK    FUANCK.  [17'.t2 

niul  was  prevented  fi\»in  sliooling  only  l»y  remonstrances 
as  to  the  danger  to  whieh  lie  exjiosed  niy  father ;  for  if 
Santene  were  sacriticed  tlu'  luiuands  would  surely  avenge 
him. 

My  father  was  nevertheless  obliged  to  allow  all  these 
wretches  to  go  through  the  rooms  of  the  chateau,  and, 
standing  himself  in  a  window  with  my  aunt,  he  watched 
them  jiass  before  him  and  heard  the  insults  with  which 
they  overwhelmed  him.  It  was  on  this  horrible  day  that 
my  father  and  my  aunt  each  made  a  memorable  speech. 
At  the  moment  of  the  greatest  danger  a  soldier  came  up 
to  the  king  and  said  to  him,  "  Sire,  fear  nothing."  My 
father  took  his  hand  and  laid  it  on  his  own  heart.  "  Does 
it  beat  hard,  grenadier  ? "  he  said.  Shortly  before,  my  Aunt 
Elisabeth,  being  mistaken  for  the  queen,  saw  herself  ex- 
posed to  the  utmost  fury  of  the  brigands;  some  one  near 
was  about  to  make  her  known.  "  Do  not  undeceive  them," 
cried  my  aunt  with  sublime  devotion. 

This  dreadful  situation  lasted  from  half-past  three  in  the 
afternoon  till  eight  at  night.  P(^tion,  mayor  of  Paris,  arrived, 
pretending  to  be  much  astonished  on  hearing  of  the  danger 
the  king  had  run.  In  haranguing  the  people  he  had  the 
impudence  to  say :  "  Return  to  your  homes  with  the  same 
dignity  with  which  you  came."  The  Assembly,  seeing  that 
the  stroke  had  missed,  changed  its  tone,  pretended  to  have 
been  ignorant  of  everything,  and  sent  deputation  after  depu- 
tation to  the  king  expressing  the  grief  it  feigned  to  feel 
for  his  danger. 

Meantime  "my  mother,  who,  as  I  said,  could  not  rejoin  the 
king,  and  was  in  her  apartment  with  my  brother  and  me, 
was  a  long  time  without  hearing  any  news.  At  last,  the 
minister  of  war  came  to  tell  her  that  my  father  was  well ; 
he  urged  her  to  leave  the  room  where  we  then  were,  as  it  was 


1792]  NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  235 

not  safe,  and  we  therefore  went  into  the  king 's  little  bed- 
chamber. We  were  scarcely  there  before  the  rioters  en- 
tered the  apartment  we  had  just  left.  The  room  in  which 
we  now  were  had  three  doors :  one  by  which  we  had  entered, 
another  opening  upon  a  private  staircase,  a  third  communi- 
cating with  the  Council  Chamber.  They  were  all  three 
locked,  but  the  first  two  were  attacked,  one  by  the  wretches 
who  were  pursuing  us,  the  other  by  men  who  came  up  the 
little  staircase,  where  we  heard  their  shouts  and  the  blows  of 
their  axes. 

In  this  close  danger  my  mother  was  perfectly  calm ;  she 
placed  my  brother  behind  every  one  and  near  the  door  of  the 
Council  Chamber,  which  was  still  safe,  then  she  placed  her- 
self at  the  head  of  us  all.  Soon  we  heard  some  one  at  the 
door  of  the  Council  Chamber  begging  to  enter.  It  was 
one  of  my  brother's  servants,  pale  as  death,  who  said  only 
these  few  words  :  "  Madame,  escape  !  the  villains  are  follow- 
ing me."  At  the  same  instant,  the  other  doors  were  forced 
in.  In  this  crisis  my  mother  hastily  ordered  the  third  door 
opened  and  passed  into  the  Council  Chamber,  where  there 
were,  already,  a  number  of  the  National  Guard  and  a  crowd 
of  wretches. 

My  mother  said  to  the  soldiers  that  she  came  to  take  re- 
fuge with  her  son  among  them.  The  soldiers  instantly  sur- 
rounded us  ;  a  large  table  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
Chamber,  served  my  mother  to  lean  upon,  my  brother  was 
seated  on  it,  and  the  brigands  defiled  past  it  to  look  at  us. 
We  were  separated  from  my  father  by  only  two  rooms,  and 
yet  it  was  impossible  to  join  him,  so  great  was  the  crowd. 
We  were  therefore  obliged  to  stay  there  and  listen  to  all  the 
insults  that  these  wretches  said  to  us  as  they  passed.  A 
half  clothed  woman  dared  to  come  to  the  table  with  a  bon- 
net rouge  in  her  hand  and  my  mother  was  forced  to  let  her 

IG  Mem.  Ver.  9 


2;U)  MAHAMK  f:i.isAHr;ni  dk  fhaxce.  [i7'.t2 

place  it  on  Iut  son's  heail ;  as  for  us,  wo  were  obliged  to  put 
cot-kades  on  our  heads.  It  was,  as  I  have  said,  about  eight 
o'clock  wlien  this  ilrcadful  procession  of  rioters  ceased  to 
pass  and  wo  were  able  to  rejoin  my  father  and  aunt.  No 
one  can  imagine  our  feelings  at  that  reunion  ;  they  were 
such  that  even  the  deputies  from  the  Assembly  were  touched. 
My  brother  was  overcome  with  fatigue  and  they  put  him  to 
bed.  We  stayed  together  for  a  time,  the  room  being  full  of 
deputies.  An  hour  later  they  went  away,  and  about  eleven 
o'clock,  after  having  passed  a  most  terrible  day,  we  separated 
to  get  some  rest.  .  .  . 

The  next  ilay  Ptition  came  again  to  play  the  hypocrite, 
saying  he  had  heard  of  more  assemblings  of  the  people  and 
he  had  hastened  to  defend  the  king.  My  father  ordered  him 
to  be  silent;  but  as  he  still  tried  to  protest  his  attach- 
ment, my  father  said  :  "  Be  silent,  monsieur ;  I  know  your 
thoughts." 


Massacre  at  the  Tuilerics ;  Dethronement  of  my  Father. 
The  Days  from  the  10th  to  the  ISth  of  Aiigust,  1792. 

After  the  fatal  epoch  of  June  20,  my  family  no  longer  en- 
joyed any  trancjuillity ;  every  day  there  were  fresh  alarms, 
and  rumours  tliat  the  faubourgs  Saint  Antoine  and  Saint 
Marceau  [together  with  those  wretches  who  were  called  the 
Marseillais]  were  marching  against  the  chateau.  Some- 
times they  sounded  the  tocsin  and  beat  the  gencrale ;  some- 
times, under  pretext  of  a  dinner  of  confraternity,  they  invited 
[and  worked  upon]  the  sections  of  opposite  opinions  to  de- 
mand the  dethronement  of  the  king,  which  Dauton,  Eobes- 
pierre,  and  their  party  wanted  at  all  costs.  After  these 
many  preludes,  we  heard  with  certainty  on  the  9th  of  August 
that  the   populace,  armed,  was   assembling   to   attack   the 


1792]  NARRATIVE  OF   MADAME   ROY  ALE.  237 

Tuileiies  ;  it  was  already  evening.  The  troops  who  remained 
faithful  to  my  father  were  therefore  hastily  collected,  among 
them  the  Swiss  Guard ;  and  a  great  number  of  the  nobles 
who  were  [still]  in  Paris  arrived  [in  haste].  Imagine  the 
situation  of  my  unhappy  parents  during  that  horrible  night ; 
they  remained  together  [expecting  only  carnage  and  death], 
and  my  mother  had  ordered  my  brother  and  me  to  go  to  bed. 

Potion  arrived  about  eleven  o'clock,  exclaiming  loudly 
against  this  new  tumult.  My  father  treated  him  as  he  de- 
served and  sent  him  away ;  nevertheless,  malignant  people 
spread  the  news  that  Pdtion  was  kept  prisoner  in  the  Tuile- 
ries  ;  [on  which]  minds  grew  [embittered  and]  inflamed  even 
to  fury,  and  at  midnight  the  signal  was  given  to  begin  the 
dreadful  massacre.  The  first  shot  fired  killed  M.  Clermont- 
Tonnerre,  a  member  of  the  First  Assembly.  For  a  part  of  the 
night  the  tumult  went  on  outside  the  Tuileries,  where  fresh 
reinforcements  of  the  National  Guard  were  successively  ar- 
riving ;  unfortunately,  [far]  too  many  came,  for  most  of  them 
were  already  seduced  and  treacherously  inclined. 

At  six  in  the  morning  it  was  suggested  to  my  father  to 
visit  all  the  posts  and  encourage  the  troops  to  defend  him ; 
but  only  a  few  cries  of  Vive  le  Roi !  were  heard  in  the  court- 
yards, and  what  was  worse,  when  he  wished  to  enter  the 
garden,  the  artilleiy-men,  most  wicked  of  all,  dared  to  turn 
their  cannon  against  their  king ;  a  thing  not  believable  if  I 
did  not  declare  that  I  saw  it  with  my  own  e^^es. 

My  father,  having  thus  indubitably  recognized  the  bad 
disposition  of  the  National  Guard,  saw  but  too  well  that  no 
faithful  subjects  remained  about  him,  except  a  few  nobles 
who  had  come  to  us,  a  part  of  the  servants  of  the  cha- 
teau, and  the  Swiss  Guard ;  they  all  armed  themselves.  M. 
Mandat,  commandant  of  the  National  Guard  in  the  Tuileries 
[a  man  of  little  enterprise  but  faithful],  was  summoned  by 


238  MAPAMK    fCLISAnKTII    DK    FRANCK.  [1792 

tlio  mavDr  to  tlio  Hutel  tK'  \'ill(>;  llieiv  he  was  nuirdered 
by  order  of  the  immicipalily,  who  inimediutely  appointed 
Sauterre  to  replace  him.  Towards  seven  in  the  morning 
Ucrderer,  head  of  the  department,  arrived.  He  asked  to 
speak  alone  witli  the  king;  there,  he  threw  himself  at  his 
feet  and  conjured  him  to  save  himself;  he  represented  to 
him  that  furious  brigands  were  arriving  in  masses,  that  he 
had  too  few  persons  to  defend  him,  that  he  had  no  course 
left  but  to  go,  he  and  his  family,  and  take  refuge  in  the 
National  Assembly.  My  father  rejected  the  idea  for  a  long 
time,  but  Ro?derer  insisting,  and  the  peril  becoming  urgent 
and  inevitable,  he  at  last  resolved  to  go  to  the  Assembly 
with  his  family,  Mme.  de  Lamballe,  and  Mme.  de  Tourzel. 
He  left  all  the  rest  of  his  people  in  the  chateau,  not  doubt- 
ing that  as  soon  as  it  was  known  that  he  had  gone,  the  tu- 
mult would  cease  and  there  would  be  no  longer  any  danger 
for  those  he  left  there.^ 

"We  crossed  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries  in  the  midst  of  a 
few  National  guards,  who  stQl  remained  faithful.  On  the 
way  we  were  told  that  the  Assembly  would  not  receive  my 
father.  The  terrace  of  the  Feuillants,  along  w^hich  we  had 
to  pass,  was  full  of  wretches,  who  assailed  us  with  insults ; 
one  of  them  cried  out :  "  No  women,  or  we  will  kill  them 
all ! "  My  mother  was  not  frightened  at  the  threat  and 
continued  her  way.  At  last  we  entered  the  passage  to  the 
Assembly.  Before  being  admitted  [to  the  hall]  we  had  to 
wait  more  than  half  an  hour,  a  number  of  deputies  still 

1  To  this  Louis  XVIII.  adds  in  a  footnote  :  "  After  the  words  '  the  rest 
of  his  people  '  [son  mondf]  should  be  added  :  'and  the  ladies,  among  whom 
were  Mmes.  de  Tarente,  de  Duras,  de  la  Rocheaymon,  etc.,  who  stayed 
there  by  his  order.'  I  mention  these  ladies  here  all  the  more  willingly 
because  I  am  certain  they  were  there.  I  add  '  by  his  order,'  1st,  because  it 
is  true ;  2d,  because  it  explains  why  so  few  persons  followed  the  king 
and  queen  to  the  Assembly."  —  Tr. 


1792]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  239 

opposing  our  entrance.  We  were  tlius  kept  in  a  narrow 
corridor,  so  dark  that  we  could  see  nothing,  and  hear  noth- 
ing but  the  shouts  of  the  furious  mob.  My  father,  my 
mother,  and  my  brother  were  in  front  with  Mme.  de  Tourzel ; 
my  aunt  was  with  me,  on  the  other  side.  I  was  held  by  a 
man  whom  I  did  not  know.  I  have  never  thought  myself 
so  near  death,  not  doubting  that  the  decision  was  made  to 
murder  us  all.  In  the  darkness  I  could  not  see  my  parents, 
and  I  feared  everything  for  them.  We  were  left  to  this 
mortal  agony  more  than  half  an  hour. 

At  last  we  were  allowed  to  enter  the  hall  of  the  Assembly, 
and  my  father  on  entering  said  [in  a  loud  voice]  that  he 
came  to  take  refuge  with  his  family  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Assembly,  to  prevent  the  French  nation  from  committing  a 
great  crime.  We  were  placed  at  the  bar,  and  they  then  dis- 
cussed whether  it  was  proper  that  my  father  should  be  pres- 
ent at  their  deliberations.  They  said,  as  to  that,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  let  him  stay  at  the  bar  without  infringing  on 
the  inviolability  of  the  sovereign  people ;  and  they  declaimed 
speeches  thereon  which  were  full  of  horrors.  After  this  they 
took  us  into  the  box  of  a  journalist. 

We  had  hardly  entered  this  species  of  cage  when  we  heard 
cannon,  musket-shots,  and  the  cries  of  those  who  were  mur- 
dering in  the  Tuileries ;  but  we  were  ignorant  at  the  time  of 
what  was  happening.  We  heard  later  how  the  massacre 
began.  My  father  had  hardly  left  the  chateau  before  a  party 
of  wi-etches  [already  in  the  courtyards]  began  to  attack  with 
armcs  blanches  [sabres  and  pikes]  the  Swiss  Guard,  who 
fired  in  self-defence.  Nothing  more  was  needed  to  push 
their  fury  to  the  highest  point ;  those  who  were  outside  hear- 
ing the  Swiss  fire  first,  and  taking  them  for  the  aggressors, 
spread  the  rumour  that  my  father  had  ordered  them  to  fire 
on  the  people.     Soon,  not  only  the  courtyard  gates  but  those 


210  MADAMIC    ['-LISAIlKril    DK    FRANCE.  [1732 

of  llie  chruoftu  were  forced,  and  these  madmen  rushed  in, 
nmssacrin>;  all  whom  they  found,  especially  the  Swiss. 
[Then  and  there  jxjrished  an  immensity  of  faithful  servitors 
of  all  ranks  and  all  classes.  Among  the  victims  were  INIM. 
de  t'lerniont  d'Amboise  and  de  Casti'-ja,  de  Viomesnil  and 
d'Hervilly ;  the  Mai(5clial  de  Mailly,  MM.  de  IMaillardoz  and 
de  liachmanii  died  later.  All  (lie  old  ollicers  of  the  Guard 
called  "  constitutional,"  the  two  battalions  of  the  Filles-St.- 
Thomas  and  the  Petits-Pferes  distinguished  themselves  by  an 
unbounded  devotion,  though,  uuhap})ily,  fruitless.  Wliat 
could  they  do  against  a  multitude  maddened  with  drink  and 
blood  and  fury  ?]  The  Tuileries  then  became  a  spectacle  of 
horror ;  blood  ran  everywhere,  especially  in  the  apartments 
of  the  king  and  queen.  Nevertheless,  in  the  midst  of  these 
abominations  some  traits  of  humanity  were  shown ;  among 
these  monsters  were  some  who  saved  several  persons,  taking 
them  by  the  arm  and  making  them  pass  for  their  friends  or 
relatives.  The  camage  lasted  all  that  day  on  one  side  or 
the  other;  the  number  of  brigands  who  perished  was  con- 
siderable, for  those  wretches  killed  each  other  in  their  blind 
fury.  At  night,  the  chateau  took  fire  ;  fortunately,  the  flames 
lasted  but  a  little  while,  and  so  ended  those  awful  and  too 
memorable  scenes. 

Meantime  our  terrors  increased  as  these  dreadful  noises 
went  on ;  but  it  was  even  worse  when  we  heard  the  same 
sort  of  cries  close  to  the  Assembly.  The  members  them- 
selves were  frightened,  and  in  their  fear  they  tore  out  the 
iron  railing  of  the  box  where  we  were  and  forced  my  father 
into  the  midst  of  them  ;  but  this  tumult  was  soon  appeased. 
It  was  occasioned  by  the  approach  of  a  number  of  the  Swiss 
Guard  who  had  escaped  from  the  Tuileries  and  were  trjnng 
to  come  to  the  support  of  the  king ;  they  had  almost  forced 
the  door  of   the  Assembly  when  an  officer  said  to  thejn.: 


1792]  NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME  ROYALE.  241 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  The  king  is  in  the  midst  of  assas- 
sins ;  they  will  murder  him  if  you  advance."  This  reflection 
held  them  back  and  they  surrendered ;  it  was  thus  that  these 
brave  foreigners  [ever  faithful],  to  the  number  of  about  one 
hundred,  escaped  the  massacre.  As  for  those  of  their  com- 
patriots who  did  not  perish  in  the  Tuileries,  they  were  taken 
to  the  H6tel-de-Ville  and  there  massacred  with  their  princi- 
pal officers.  A  forged  order  from  the  kiag  was  sent  to 
summon  the  Swiss  Guard  from  the  barracks  at  Courbevoie ; 
on  their  arrival  in  Paris  they  met  the  same  fate. 

Still  kept  in  the  box  at  the  Assembly,  we  witnessed  the 
horrors  of  all  kinds  which  there  took  place.  Sometimes  they 
assailed  my  father  and  all  his  family  with  [the  basest  and 
most  atrocious]  insults,  triumphing  over  him  with  cruel  joy ; 
sometimes  they  brought  in  gentlemen  dying  of  their  wounds ; 
sometimes  they  brought  my  father's  own  servants,  who,  with 
the  utmost  impudence,  gave  false  testimony  against  him ; 
while  others  boasted  of  what  they  had  done.  At  last,  to 
complete  the  revolting  scene,  they  brought  in  the  Host  and 
flung  the  sacred  wafers  on  the  ground.  It  was  in  the  midst 
of  these  abominations  that  our  entire  day,  from  eight  in  the 
morning  until  midnight,  passed  [as  one  may  say]  through 
all  gradations  of  whatever  was  most  terrible,  most  awful. 

The  session  ended  by  [a  decree  full  of  insults  to  my  father, 
declaring  the  king  suspended  from  his  functions  and  order- 
ing the  convocation  of  a  National  Convention.  They  next 
wished  to  take  up  the  fate  of  my  brother ;  they  proposed  to 
appoint  his  governor,  and  even  to  make  him  king ;  but  the 
latter  motion  was  rejected,  and  that  of  giving  him  a  governor 
was  adjourned  until  the  Convention  should  declare  whether 
the  Nation  desired  to  still  have  a  king].  At  last  they  per- 
mitted us,  about  one  at  night  to  retire  to  one  of  the  little 
rooms  near-by,  in  the  convent  of  the  Feuillants ;  there  we 


242  MADAMK    feLISABETH   DK    FRANCE.  [1792 

wore  loft  nloiio  [without  the  slightest  defence  against  the 
8i\nguinnry  rage  oi  these  wretches].  The  next  day,  several 
persons  belonging  to  my  father's  service  came  to  us.  We 
were  forced  to  return  again  to  the  Assembly  and  spend  the 
whole  day  there  while  they  discussed  what  should  be  done 
with  the  king,  and  where  he  should  be  kept.  The  Place 
Vendome,  in  which  is  the  Chancellerie,  was  proposed  for  this 
purjx)se,  on  which  Manuel,  public  prosecutor  for  the  Com- 
mune of  Paris,  demanded,  in  the  name  of  his  constituents,  to 
be  intrusted  with  the  responsibility  of  keeping  my  father  and 
his  family  ;  and  this  being  granted,  he  proposed  the  chateau 
of  the  Temple  for  our  residence,  which  was  decreed. 

That  day  and  the  next  were  passed  like  the  preceding  day ; 
we  were  forced  to  listen  in  the  hall  of  the  Assembly  to  the 
prowess  of  those  who  had  distinguished  themselves  by  their 
barbarities.  At  night  we  returned  to  our  rooms,  [where  we 
were  not  allowed  to  enjoy  in  peace  the  hours  consecrated  to 
rest],  a  deputy  of  the  Assembly  coming  an  hour  after  mid- 
night to  search  and  see  if  we  had  men  hidden  there ;  none 
were  found,  for  my  father  had  been  obliged  to  send  away 
those  who  had  come  to  him.  On  the  12th  it  was  determined 
that  we  shoiild  be  transferred  to  the  Temple  on  the  following 
day. 

On  the  13th  we  did  not  go  to  the  Assembly.  Towards 
three  in  the  afternoon  Potion  and  Manuel  came  to  take  my 
father,  and  they  made  us  all  get  into  a  carriage  with  eight 
seats,  into  which  they  got  themselves  [with  their  hats  on 
their  heads  and  shouting,  Vive  la  Nation!].  We  drove 
through  the  streets  leading  to  the  Temple  in  great  peril  and 
loaded  with  insults ;  our  conductors  themselves  feared  the 
people  so  much  that  they  would  not  let  the  carriage  stop 
for  a  moment;  and  yet  it  took  two  hours  before  we  could 
reach  the  Temple  through  that  immense  throng.     On  the 


1792-1793]        NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROY  ALE.  243 

way  they  had  the  cruelty  to  point  out  to  my  parents  things 
that  would  distress  them,  —  the  statues  of  the  Kings  of  France 
thrown  down,  even  that  of  Henri  IV.,  before  which  the 
populace  compelled  us  to  stop,  to  make  us  look  at  him  on 
the  gi'ound.  We  did  not  observe  on  our  way  any  feeling 
souls  touched  by  our  condition,  such  terror  was  now  in- 
spired in  those  who  still  thought  rightly.  And  yet,  in  the 
midst  of  so  many  sights  which  might  well  break  down  the 
strongest  soul,  my  father  and  my  mother  preserved  the 
tranquillity  and  courage  that  a  good  conscience  can  alone 
inspire. 


Imprisonment  of  my  Family  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple  % 
August  13,  1792,  followed  by  the  Trial  and  Martyrdom 
of  my  Father,  January  21,  1793.^ 

On  arriving  at  the  Temple  on  Monday,  August  13th,  1792, 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  artillery-men  under 
Santerre  wished  to  take  my  father  to  the  Tower  and  leave 
us  in  the  chateau.  Manuel  had  received  on  the  way  a 
decree  of  the  Commune  designating  the  Tower  as  our  com- 
mon prison.  However,  they  calmed  the  artillery-men  and 
we  entered  the  chateau  first,  where  the  municipal  guards 
kept  my  father  and  all  of  us  within  sight.  An  hour  later. 
Potion  went  away  and  my  father  supped  with  us.  At 
eleven,  my  brother  dying  with  sleep,  Mme.  de  Tourzel  took 
him  to  the  Tower,  where  we  were  all  to  go,  although  nothing 
had  been  prepared  to  receive  us.  My  father  was  surrounded 
by  the  municipal  guards,  drunk  and  insolent,  who  sat  down 
beside  him,  and  talked  in  a  loud  voice  without  the  slightest 
regard  to  him.  At  one  o'clock  we  were  at  last  taken  over 
to  the  Tower,  where  Manuel,  as  secretary -general  of  the 
1  Here  begins  tlie  part  she  wrote  in  the  Tower.  —  Tk. 


244  MAPAMK    KLISAHKTH    Dl".    KWANCE.  [1792-1793 

O'lniuuno,  i'oninuiU\l  us.  lie  was  iishanietl  himself,  Lu  liiitl 
this  KHl^'iiig  baro  of  everything,  aud  such  that  my  aunt  was 
reiluced  to  sleep  in  the  kitchen  for  several  nights. 

The  i>ersons  who  were  sliut  up  with  us  in  this  fatal  place 
were  the  Priucesse  de  Lamballe,  Mme.  de  Tourzel  aud  her 
daughter  Pauline,  M.  de  Chamilly,  my  father's  head  valet  de 
chambrc,  M.  Hue,  in  tlie  service  of  my  brother,  Mmes.  Cim- 
bris,  Thibaut,  Navarre,  and  Bazire,  waiting-women  to  my 
brother,  my  mother,  my  aunt,  aud  myself.  My  father  was 
lodged  above  on  the  third  floor  of  the-  building  adjacent  to 
tlie  main  body  of  the  Tower ;  having  a  municipal  guard  in 
his  room.  My  aunt  occupied  a  kitchen  with  Mile,  de  Tour- 
zel and  Mme.  Navarre  ;  my  mother  lodged  below  in  a  salon, 
with  me  and  afterwards  Mme.  de  Lamballe ;  and  in  a  third 
room  was  my  brother  with  Mme.  de  Tourzel  liis  governess, 
and  his  maid,  Mme.  Cimbris ;  this  was  a  billiard-room. 
Mmes,  Thibaut  and  Bazire  slept  below.  In  the  kitchen 
of  the  chateau,  destined  for  our  service,  were  Turgy, 
Chretien,  and  Marchand,  men  long  attached  to  the  king's 
household,  who  brought  the  dishes  for  our  meals  to  the 
Tower. 

Tiie  next  day  my  father  came  to  breakfast  at  nine  o'clock 
in  my  mother's  room,  and  afterwards  we  all  went  together 
to  look  over  the  Tower,  because  they  wanted  to  make  bed- 
chambers of  the  great  rooms.  We  returned  to  dine  on  the 
first  floor  in  a  room  adjoining  the  library.  After  dinner, 
Manuel  and  Santerre  commander  of  the  National  Guard, 
came  to  the  Tower,  and  my  father  went  to  w^alk  with  them  in 
the  garden.  On  our  arrival  the  previous  day  they  had  de- 
manded the  departure  of  the  women  who  were  in  our  ser- 
vice, and  we  even  found  new  women  chosen  by  Potion 
waiting  to  serve  us,  but  they  were  not  accepted.  The  day 
but  one  after,  during  our  dinner,  they  brought  us  a  decree 


1792-1793]         NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  245 

of  the  Commune  ordering  that  our  women  and  even  the 
ladies  should  be  removed.  My  father  opposed  this  vehe- 
mently and  so  did  the  municipal  guards,  which  annoyed 
those  who  had  brought  the  order.  We  were  each  asked 
privately  if  we  did  not  wish  for  others ;  on  which,  having 
all  responded  no,  things  remained  as  they  were. 

From  this  time  we  were  busy  in  regulating  our  hours. 
We  passed  the  whole  day  together;  my  father  taught  my 
brother  geography  and  history ;  my  mother  made  him  learn 
and  recite  verses ;  my  aunt  taught  him  arithmetic.  For- 
tunately there  was  a  Library  adjoining  our  apartments  [that 
of  the  guard  of  the  Archives  of  Malta],  where  my  father 
foimd  an  agreeable  diversion  ;  my  mother,  my  aunt,  and  I 
often  did  worsted-work. 

My  father  asked  for  a  man  and  woman  to  do  the  rough 
work,  and  a  few  days  later  they  sent  a  man  named  Tison 
and  his  wife.  The  guards  became  daily  more  uncivil  and 
insolent,  and  they  never  left  us  one  instant  alone,  either 
when  we  were  together  or  separate.  Mme.  de  Lamballe  was 
allowed  to  write  to  the  outside  and  ask  for  the  things  she 
needed,  but  always  in  open  letters  read  by  the  municipals. 
At  last,  during  the  night  of  the  19th  and  20th  of  August, 
they  brought  and  read  in  all  our  rooms  a  decree  of  the 
Commune  removing  from  the  Tower  all  persons  who  were 
not  of  the  royal  family.  They  ordered  Mme.  de  Lamballe  to 
rise.  My  mother  tried  to  oppose  it  by  urging  that  she  was 
her  relative,  but  in  vain ;  they  replied  that  they  had  orders 
to  take  her  away  and  question  her.  Obliged  to  submit,  we 
all  rose,  with  death  in  our  hearts,  to  bid  these  ladies  fare- 
well [an  eternal  farewell  to  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  we  had  a  presentiment  of  her  horrible  fate. 
MM.  de  Chamilly  and  Hue  were  also  taken  away] ;  our 
waiting-women  were  prevented  from  taking  leave  of  us. 


•J4(J  MADAMK    fCLISABETII    DK    FRANCE.         [1792-17'J,1 

Kvon'  one  having  pone,  n)y  brotluM-  wiis  loft  alone  in  his 
room,  nntl  ihov  hmuglU.  him,  still  aslooi',  into  that  of  my 
mother  whori'  two  nuinicipals  wcio  itn  ijjuard.  ITnahle  to  go 
to  sleep  again,  even  my  brother  who  was  awakened  by  the 
noise,  we  passed  the  night  together;  my  father,  though 
awakeneil,  remained  in  his  room  with  a  municipal.  The 
men  wlu>  took  away  the  ladies  assured  us  they  would  return 
after  their  examination,  but  we  learned  the  next  day  that 
tliey  liad  been  taken  to  the  prison  of  La  Force.  M.  Hue, 
however,  returned  at  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning;  the 
Council,  having  judged  him  innocent,  sent  him  back  to  the 
Tem]ile. 

My  mother,  left  thus  alone,  took  charge  of  my  brother,  who 
slept  in  her  room ;  I  went  to  occupy  the  billiard-room  with 
my  aunt,  and  the  municipal  kept  himself  during  the  day  in 
the  queen's  room  and  at  night  with  the  sentinel  in  the  little 
room  between  us.  My  father  remained  above,  where  he 
slept ;  we  went  up  to  breakfast  with  him  while  they  cleaned 
my  mother's  chamber,  after  which  my  father  came  down  and 
spent  the  entire  day  with  us. 

The  24th,  towards  one  in  the  morning,  they  came  to 
search  my  father's  room  under  pretence  of  looking  for  arms, 
and  they  took  away  his  sword.  The  next  day,  the  day  of 
Saint-Louis,  they  shouted  the  "  ^a  ira  "  close  by  the  Temple. 
We  then  heard  that  M.  de  la  Fayette  [having  ended  his 
rQle],  had  abandoned  the'army  and  quitted  France,  which  news 
was  confirmed  to  my  father  that  evening  by  Manuel,  who  at 
the  same  time  brought  a  letter,  which  had  been  opened,  to 
my  Aunt  Elisabeth  from  my  great-aunts  in  Rome ;  this  was 
the  last  that  my  family  received  from  without.  Not  only  was 
my  father  no  longer  treated  as  king,  but  he  was  not  even 
treated  with  simple  respect ;  he  was  not  called  Sire  or  Your 
^lajesty,  but  merely  Monsieur,  or  Louis ;  the  municipal  guards 


1792-1793]         NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  247 

sat  down  in  his  room,  their  hats  on  their  heads.  It  was  then 
that  Pdtion  sent  Cl^ry  for  the  service  of  my  brother,  to  which 
he  already  belonged ;  and  he  installed  as  jailers  or  turnkeys 
of  the  Tower  two  men  named  Eisbey  and  Eocher.  The 
latter  was  the  horrible  man  who  on  the  20th  of  June  had 
forced  my  father's  door  and  tried  to  kill  him.  This  monster 
roamed  arovmd  us  continually  with  dreadful  glances ;  he 
never  ceased  torturing  my  father  in  every  possible  way ; 
sometimes  he  sang  the  Carmagnole,  and  other  such  horrors  ; 
at  other  times  he  puffed  the  smoke  of  his  pipe  into  my 
father's  face  as  he  passed,  knowing  that  he  disliked  the  smell 
of  it ;  at  night  when  we  went  to  supper,  as  we  were  obliged 
to  pass  through  his  room,  he  was  always  in  his  bed,  and 
sometimes  he  would  be  there  at  our  dinner  hour,  pretending 
to  sleep ;  in  short  there  was  no  kind  of  insult  and  insolence 
he  did  not  invent  to  torment  us. 

Meantime  the  king  lacked  everything ;  he  therefore  wrote 
to  Potion  to  obtain  the  money  which  was  intended  for  him  ; 
but  he  received  no  answer  and  our  discomforts  were  multi- 
plied daily.  The  garden,  the  only  place  where  my  father 
could  take  the  air,  was  full  of  workmen,  who  insulted  us  to 
such  a  point  that  one  of  them  boasted  he  would  knock 
off  my  mother's  head,  but  P(^tion  had  him  arrested.  Even  at 
the  windows  on  the  street  which  looked  into  the  garden, 
people  came  expressly  to  msult  us.  On  the  2d  of  September, 
as  we  were  walking  there  towards  four  in  the  afternoon,  not 
knowing  what  was  going  on  outside,  a  woman  stood  at  one 
of  those  windows  who  loaded  my  father  with  insults  and 
dared  to  assail  him  with  stones  which  fell  beside  him  ;  an- 
other of  those  windows  offered  us  at  the  same  moment  a 
very  touching  contrast.  How  precious  to  the  unfortunate  is 
a  mark  of  interest !  A  woman,  not  less  feeling  than  coura- 
geous, having  written  on  a  large  card  the  news  of  the  taking 


24S  MADAM i:  i:i.isAi?i:rii  nic  kkance.      [1792-1793 

of  Vonluii  by  the  coalition  army,  held  it  towards  us  at  a 
window  lonfj  enough  for  us  to  read  it,  which  my  aunt  did 
without  the  municipals  perceiving  it. 

We  iiad  hardly  rejoiced  at  the  news  when  a  new  munici- 
pal arrived,  named  Matthieu  [a  former  capuchin  monk].  In- 
flamed with  anger  he  came  to  my  father  and  told  him  to 
follow  Iiim,  which  we  all  did,  fearing  that  they  meant  to 
separate  us.  Going  upstairs  we  met  M.  Hue,  and  Matthieu 
U-»ld  him  he  arrested  him ;  .  .  .  then,  turning  to  my  father,  he 
said  all  that  fury  could  suggest,  and  especially  these  w^ords  : 
"  The  generale  is  beaten,  the  cannon  of  warning  is  fired,  the 
tocsin  is  sounding,  the  enemies  are  at  Verdun,  if  they  come 
we  shall  all  perish,  but  you  the  first."  IVIy  father  listened  to 
his  threats  firmly,  with  the  calm  of  innocence,  but  my 
brother,  terrified,  burst  into  tears  and  ran  into  the  next  room, 
where  I  followed  him  and  did  my  best  to  console  him,  but 
in  vain  ;  he  imagined  he  saw  my  father  dead.  Meantime, 
M.  Hue  having  returned,  Matthieu,  continuing  his  insults, 
took  him  away  with  him  and  shut  him  up  in  the  prison  of 
the  Mairie,  instead  of  that  of  the  Abbaye  where  he  was  to 
have  gone,  but  the  massacre  of  that  day  had  already  begun 
there  .  .  .  We  heard  that  in  the  end  he  was  set  at  liberty, 
but  he  never  returned  to  the  Temple. 

The  municipals  all  condemned  the  \4olent  conduct  of  Mat- 
thieu, but  they  did  not  do  better.  They  told  my  father  they 
were  certain  the  King  of  Prussia  was  on  the  march  and  kill- 
ing all  Frenchmen  by  an  order  signed  Louis.  There  were 
no  calumnies  they  did  not  invent,  even  the  most  ridiculous 
and  the  most  incredible.  My  mother,  who  could  not  sleep, 
heard  the  generale  beaten  all  night. 

September  3d  at  eight  in  the  morning,  Manuel  came  to 
see  my  father,  and  assured  him  that  Mme.  de  Lamballe  and 
the  other  persons  taken  from  the  Temple  were  well  and  all 


1792-1793]        NARRATIVE    OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  249 

together,  tranquilly,  in  La  Force.  At  three  in  the  afternoon 
we  heard  dreadful  outcries  ;  my  father  left  the  dinner-table 
and  played  backgammon  with  my  mother,  to  control  his 
countenance  and  be  able  to  say  a  few  words  to  her  without 
being  heard.  The  municipal  guard  in  the  room  behaved  well ; 
he  closed  the  door  and  window,  also  the  curtains,  so  that  they 
might  see  nothing.  The  workmen  at  the  Temple  and  the  jailer 
Eocher  joined  the  murderers,  which  increased  the  noise. 
Several  officers  of  the  National  Guard  and  some  municipals 
arrived ;  the  first  desired  that  my  father  should  show  himself 
at  the  window.  The  municipals  fortunately  opposed  this  ;  but 
my  father,  having  asked  what  was  happening,  a  young  officer 
replied :  "  Well,  if  you  want  to  know,  it  is  the  head  of  Mme. 
de  Lamballe  they  wish  to  show  you."  My  mother  was 
seized  with  horror;  that  was  the  sole  moment  when  her 
firmness  abandoned  her.  The  mvmicipals  scolded  the  officer, 
but  my  father,  with  his  usual  kindness,  excused  him,  saying 
it  was  not  the  officer's  fault,  but  his  own  for  having  questioned 
him.     The  noise  lasted  till  five  o'clock. 

We  learned  that  the  people  had  tried  to  force  the  gates ; 
that  the  municipals  had  prevented  it  by  tying  across  the 
door  a  tricolour  scarf ;  and  that  finally  they  had  allowed  six 
of  the  murderers  to  enter  and  walk  round  our  prison  with 
the  head  of  Mme.  de  Lamballe,  but  on  condition  that  they 
left  the  body,  which  they  wanted  to  drag  round,  at  the  gate. 
Wlien  this  deputation  entered,  Eocher  uttered  shouts  of  joy 
on  seeing  the  head  of  Mme.  de  Lamballe,  and  scolded  a 
young  man  who  was  taken  ill,  so  horrified  was  he  at  the 
sight. 

The  tumult  was  hardly  over  before  Potion,  instead  of 
exerting  himself  to  stop  tlie  massacre,  coldly  sent  his  secre- 
tary to  my  father  to  reckon  about  money.  This  man  was 
very  ridiculous,  and  said  many  things   which  would   have 


250  MADAMK    fiLISAHKl'II    DK    FKANCE.  [17'.t2-17'J.t 

itiHilo  US  Inui^li  at  another  inoiuent ;  he  thought  luy  mother 
reuiaineil  staniliug  i>nhis  ac-couut ;  for  sLiice  that  awful  scene 
she  had  i'<«ntinueil  standing,  niotiouless,  and  seeing  nothing 
that  took  place  in  the  room.  The  municipal  guard  who  had 
sacritioed  his  scarf  at  the  door  made  my  father  pay  for  it. 
Mv  aunt  and  1  heard  the  generalc  beaten  all  night;  my 
unhappy  mother  did  not  even  try  to  sleep ;  we  listened  to 
her  sobs.  We  did  not  suppose  that  the  massacre  was  still 
going  on ;  it  was  not  until  some  time  later  that  we  learned 
it  had  lasted  three  days. 

It  is  impossible  to  give  all  the  scenes  that  took  place,  as 
much  on  the  part  of  the  municipals  as  on  that  of  the  National 
CJuard;  everything  alarmed  them,  so  guilty  did  they  feel 
themselves.  Once,  during  supper,  there  was  a  cry  to  arms ;  it 
was  thought  that  the  foreigners  were  arriving ;  the  horrible 
Kocher  took  a  sabre  and  said  to  my  father,  "  If  they  come 
I  will  kill  you."  It  was  only  some  trouble  with  the  patrols. 
Their  severity  increased  daily.  Nevertheless,  we  found  two 
municipals  who  softened  the  misery  of  my  parents  by  show- 
ing them  kind  feeling  and  giving  them  hope.  I  fear  they 
are  dead.  There  was  also  a  sentinel  who  had  a  conversation 
with  my  aunt  through  the  keyhole.  That  unfortunate  man 
wept  all  the  time  he  was  near  us  in  the  Temple.  I  know 
not  what  became  of  him ;  may  heaven  have  rewarded  his 
attachment  to  his  king. 

When  I  took  lessons  and  my  mother  prepared  extracts  for 
me,  a  municipal  was  always  there,  looking  over  my  shoulder, 
believing  that  there  must  be  conspiracy.  The  newspapers 
were  not  allowed  us  for  fear  we  should  know  the  foreign 
news ;  but  one  day  they  brought  a  copy  to  my  father  telling 
him  he  would  find  something  interesting  in  it.  Oh,  horror  ! 
he  there  read  that  they  would  make  a  cannon-ball  of  his 
head.     The   calm   and  contemptuous   silence  of   my  father 


1792-1793]         NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  251 

damped  the  joy  they  had  shown  in  bringing  him  that  infernal 
writing.  One  evening  a  municipal,  on  arriving,  uttered  many 
threats  and  insults,  and  repeated  what  we  had  already  heard, 
that  we  should  all  perish  if  the  enemy  approached  Paris  ; 
he  added  that  my  brother  alone  caused  him  pity,  but,  being 
the  son  of  a  tyrant,  he  must  die.  Such  were  the  scenes  that 
my  family  had  to  bear  daily. 

The  Kepublic  was  established  September  22,  they  told  us 
joyfully ;  they  also  told  us  of  the  departure  of  the  foreign 
army  ;  we  could  not  believe  it,  but  it  was  true. 

At  the  beginning  of  October,  they  took  away  from  us 
pens,  paper,  ink,  and  pencils  ;  they  searched  everywhere,  and 
even  harshly.  This  did  not  prevent  my  mother  and  me  from 
hiding  our  pencils,  which  we  kept ;  my  father  and  aunt  gave 
up  theirs.  The  evening  of  the  same  day,  as  my  father  was 
finishing  supper,  they  told  him  to  wait ;  that  he  was  going  into 
another  lodging  in  the  Great  Tower,  and  would  in  future  be 
separated  from  us.  At  this  dreadful  news  my  mother  lost  her 
usual  courage  and  firmness.  We  parted  from  him  with  many 
tears,  still  hoping,  however,  to  see  him  again.  The  next  day 
they  brought  our  breakfast  separately  from  his;  my  mother 
would  eat  nothing.  The  municipals,  frightened  and  troubled 
by  her  gloomy  grief,  allowed  us  to  see  my  father,  but  only  at 
meals,  forbidding  us  to  speak  in  low  tones  or  in  foreign 
languages,  but  "  aloud  and  in  good  French."  We  then  went 
to  dine  with  my  father  in  great  joy  at  seeing  him  again  ;  but 
a  municipal  was  there  who  perceived  that  my  aunt  spoke 
low  to  my  father,  and  he  made  her  a  scene.  At  night,  my 
brother  being  in  bed,  either  my  mother  or  my  aunt  stayed 
with  him,  while  the  other  went  with  me  to  sup  with  my  father. 
In  the  mornings  we  stayed  with  him  after  breakfast  long 
enough  for  Cl^ry  to  comb  our  hair,  because  he  was  not 
allowed  to  come  to  my  mother's  room,  and  this  gave  us  a 

17  Mem.  Ver.  1) 


2r)'J  MADAME   fcUSABETII    DK    KUANCE.  11792-179,1 

slu>rt  tinu'  lunger  to  be  with  my  father.  We  weut  to  walk 
together  daily  at  midday. 

Manuel  came  to  see  my  father  and  took  away  from  him 
harshly  his  cordon  rouge  (order  of  Saint-Louis),  and  assured 
him  that  none  of  those  who  had  been  at  the  Temple,  except- 
ing Mme.  de  Lamballe,  had  perished.  He  made  Cl^ry, 
Tison,  and  hLs  wife  take  an  oath  to  be  faithful  to  the  nation. 
A  munieipal,  coming  in  one  evening,  woke  my  brother  roughly 
to  see  if  he  was  there ;  this  was  the  only  moment  of  anger 
which  1  saw  my  mother  show.  Another  municipal  told  my 
mother  that  it  was  not  Petion's  purpose  to  have  my  father 
die,  but  to  shut  him  up  for  life  with  my  brother  in  the  castle 
of  Chambord.  I  do  not  know  what  object  that  man  had  in 
giving  us  this  information ;  we  never  saw  him  again.  My 
mother  was  now  lodged  on  the  floor  above  my  father's  apart- 
ment in  the  great  Tower,  and  my  brother  slept  in  my  father's 
chamber,  also  Cl^ry  and  a  municipal  guard.  The  windows 
were  secured  by  iron  bars  and  shutters ;  the  chimneys  smoked 
much. 

Here  is  how  the  days  of  my  parents  were  passed.  My 
father  rose  at  seven  o'clock  and  prayed  to  God  till  eight. 
Then  he  dressed,  and  so  did  my  brother,  till  nine,  when 
they  came  to  breakfast  with  my  mother.  After  breakfast, 
my  father  gave  my  brother  lessons  until  eleven  o'clock ; 
the  latter  played  till  midday,  when  we  all  went  to  walk 
together,  no  matter  what  the  weather  was,  because  the 
guard,  which  was  changed  at  that  hour,  wished  to  see  us 
and  be  certain  of  our  presence  in  the  Tower;  the  walk 
lasted  till  two  o'clock,  when  we  dined.  After  dinner  my 
father  and  mother  played  backgammon  or  piquet,  or,  to 
speak  more  correctly,  pretended  to  play  so  as  to  be  able  to 
say  a  few  words  to  each  other.  At  foiu"  o'clock  my  mother 
went  up  with  us  to  her  own  room  and  took  my  brother, 


1792-1793]         NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  253 

because  the  king  usually  went  to  sleep  at  that  hour.  At 
six  my  brother  went  dowTi.  My  father  made  him  study 
and  play  till  supper-time.  At  nine  o'clock,  after  that  meal, 
my  mother  undressed  him  quickly  and  put  him  to  bed. 
We  went  up  then  to  our  room,  but  the  king  did  not  go  to 
bed  till  eleven  o'clock.  My  mother  did  a  great  deal  of 
tapestry-work,  and  made  me  study  and  often  read  aloud. 
My  aunt  prayed  to  God ;  she  read  many  books  of  piety ; 
often  the  queen  begged  her  to  read  them  aloud. 

The  newspapers  were  now  returned  to  us  in  order  that 
we  might  see  the  departure  of  the  foreigners  and  read  the 
horrors  about  the  king  of  which  they  were  full.  A  muni- 
cipal said  to  us  one  day :  "  Mesdames,  I  announce  to  you 
good  news ;  many  of  the  emigres,  those  traitors,  have  been 
taken ;  if  you  are  patriots  you  will  rejoice."  My  mother, 
as  usual,  said  not  a  word  and  did  not  even  seem  to  hear 
him ;  often  her  contemptuous  calmness  and  her  dignified 
bearing  awed  these  men ;  it  was  rarely  to  her  that  they 
addressed  themselves. 

The  Convention  came  for  the  first  time  to  see  the  king. 
The  members  who  composed  the  deputation  asked  him  if 
he  had  any  complaints  to  make;  he  said  no,  he  was  sat- 
isfied, so  long  as  he  was  with  his  family,  Cl^ry  complained 
that  they  did  not  pay  the  dealers  who  provided  for  the 
Temple.  Chabot  answered :  "  La  nation  n'est  pas  a  un  ^cu 
pr^s."  The  deputies  present  were  Chabot,  Dupont,  Drouet, 
and  Lecointe-Puyraveau.  They  came  back,  after  dinner, 
and  asked  the  same  questions.  The  next  day  Drouet  came 
back  alone  and  asked  the  queen  if  she  had  any  complaints 
to  make.  My  mother  made  him  no  answer.  Some  days 
later,  as  we  weie  at  dinner,  the  guards  threw  themselves 
roughly  on  Clcry  and  ordered  him  to  follow  them  to  the 
tribunal.     Not  long  before,  Cl^ry,  coming  down  the  staircase 


254  MADAMK    f'.LlSAHKril    DE    FUANCE.  [1792-17'J3 

with  a  immifipal,  met  a  youii^  iiiaii  of  liis  acquaintance  who 
wua  ou  guard  ;  they  saiil  goDil-ihiy  to  each  other  and  shook 
hands ;  tlie  municipal  thought  that  wrong  and  arrested  the 
yoimg  man.  It  was  to  appear  witli  him  before  the  tribunal 
that  Clt5ry  was  now  taken.  My  father  asked  that  he  should 
return  ;  the  nnmicipals  assured  him  that  he  would  not  re- 
turn ;  nevertheless  he  was  back  at  midnight.  He  asked  the 
king's  pardon  for  his  past  conduct,  which  my  father's  man- 
ner, the  exhortations  of  my  aunt,  and  the  sufferings  of  my 
relations  made  him  change  ;  after  that  he  was  very  faithful. 

My  father  fell  ill  with  a  heavy  cold ;  they  granted  him  a 
doctor  and  his  apothecary.  The  Commune  was  uneasy;  it 
had  bulletins  every  day  of  his  health,  which  was  soon  re- 
established. The  whole  family  were  ill  of  this  cold;  but 
my  father  was  more  ill  than  the  rest. 

The  Commune  changed  on  the  2d  of  December.  The 
new  municipals  came  to  inspect  my  father  and  his  family 
at  ten  o'clock  at  night.  Some  days  later  they  issued  an 
order  to  turn  Tison  and  Cl^ry  out  of  our  apartments  and 
to  take  away  from  us  knives,  scissors,  and  all  sharp  in- 
struments; they  also  ordered  that  our  dishes  should  be 
tasted  before  they  were  served  to  us.  The  search  was  made 
for  the  sharp  instruments,  and  my  mother  and  I  gave  up 
our  scissors. 

December  11th  we  were  made  very  anxious  by  the 
beating  of  drums  and  the  arrival  of  a  guard  at  the  Temple. 
My  father  came  with  my  brother  to  breakfast.  At  eleven 
o'clock  Chambon  and  Chaumette,  one  the  mayor,  the  other 
the  public  prosecutor  of  the  Commune  of  Paris,  and  Colom- 
beau  their  clerk,  went  to  my  father's  apartment.  There  they 
informed  him  of  a  decree  of  the  Convention  which  ordered 
him  to  be  brought  to  its  bar  to  be  interrogated.  They  re- 
quested him  to  send  my  brother  to  my  mother;  but  not 


1792-1793]        NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  255 

having  with  them  the  decree  of  the  Convention,  they  kept 
my  father  waiting  two  hours,  so  that  he  did  not  start  till 
one  o'clock,  in  the  mayor's  carriage,  with  Chaumette  and 
Colombeau;  the  carriage  was  escorted  by  municipals  on 
foot.  My  father  observing  that  Colombeau  bowed  to  many 
persons,  asked  him  if  they  were  all  his  friends ;  to  which 
he  answered:  "  They  are  the  brave  citizens  of  August  10th, 
whom  I  never  see  without  joy." 

I  shall  not  speak  of  my  father's  conduct  before  the  Con- 
vention ;  all  the  world  knows  it ;  his  firmness,  his  gentle- 
ness, his  kindness,  his  courage,  amid  assassins  thirsting  for 
his  blood,  are  traits  which  will  never  be  forgotten  and  which 
the  most  remote  posterity  will  admire. 

The  king  returned  at  six  o'clock  to  the  Tower  of  the 
Temple.  We  had  been  in  a  state  of  anxiety  which  it  is 
impossible  to  express.  My  mother  made  every  effort  with 
the  municipals  who  guarded  her  to  learn  what  was  happen- 
ing ;  it  was  the  first  time  that  she  deigned  to  question  them. 
These  men  would  tell  her  nothing,  and  it  was  only  after  my 
father's  return  that  we  heard  the  facts.  As  soon  as  he  had 
returned  she  asked  urgently  to  see  him ;  she  even  sent  to 
Chambon  to  ask  it,  but  received  no  reply.  My  brother 
spent  the  night  in  her  room ;  he  had  no  bed,  she  gave  him 
hers  and  remained  up  all  night  in  a  gloom  so  great  that  we 
did  not  like  to  leave  her,  but  she  forced  us  to  go  to  bed,  my 
aunt  and  me.  The  next  day  she  again  asked  to  see  my  father 
and  to  read  the  journals  to  learn  about  his  trial;  she  in- 
sisted that  at  least,  if  she  might  not  see  my  father,  permis- 
sion should  be  granted  to  my  brother  and  me.  This  request 
was  taken  to  the  Council  general ;  the  newspapers  were  re- 
fused ;  they  permitted  my  brother  and  me  to  see  my  father, 
but  only  on  condition  that  we  should  be  absolutely  sepa- 
rated from  my  mother.     They  informed  my  father  of  this, 


2r>6  MADAMH  Elisabeth  de  france.      [1792-1793 

and  he  said  (hat.  however  great  his  pleasure  might  be  in 
seeing  his  children,  the  great  business  in  which  he  was 
now  engaged  would  not  allow  him  to  occupy  himself 
with  his  son,  ami  that  liis  daughter  must  not  leave  her 
nu'iher.  They  then  brought  my  brother's  bed  into  my 
mother's  room. 

The  Convention  came  to  see  my  father;  he  asked  for 
counsel,  ink,  paper,  and  razors  with  which  to  shave;  all  of 
which  were  granted  to  him.  MM.  de  Malesherbes,  Tronchet, 
and  Destze,  his  counsel,  came  to  him ;  he  was  often  obliged, 
in  order  to  speak  to  them  without  being  heard,  to  go  with 
them  into  the  little  tourelle.  He  no  longer  went  into  the 
garden,  neither  did  we ;  he  heard  no  news  of  us,  nor  we  of 
him,  unless  through  the  municipals,  and  then  with  difficulty. 
I  had  trouble  in  my  foot,  and  my  father,  hearing  of  it, 
grieved  about  it  with  his  customary  kindness,  and  inquired 
carefully  about  my  condition.  ]\Iy  family  found  in  this 
Commune  a  few  charitable  men,  who,  by  their  kind  feeling, 
soothed  our  torture ;  they  assured  my  mother  that  my  father 
would  not  be  put  to  death,  that  his  case  would  be  sent  to 
the  primary  assemblies,  which  would  certainly  save  him. 
Alas !  they  deceived  themselves,  or  from  pity  endeavoured 
to  deceive  my  mother.  On  the  26th  of  December,  Saint- 
Stephen's  day,  my  father  made  his  will,  because  he  expected 
to  be  murdered  that  day  on  his  way  to  the  bar  of  the  Con- 
vention. He  went  there,  nevertheless,  with  his  usual  calm- 
ness, and  left  to  M.  Desfeze  the  care  of  his  defence.  He 
went  at  eleven  and  returned  at  three  o'clock. 

On  the  18th  of  Januar}-,  1793,  the  day  on  which  the  ver- 
dict was  given,  the  municipals  entered  the  king's  room  at 
eleven  o'clock,  saying  they  had  orders  not  to  let  him  out 
of  sight.  He  asked  if  his  fate  were  decided ;  they  an- 
swered no.     The  next  morning  M.  de  Malesherbes  came  to 


1792-1793]        NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROY  ALE.  257 

tell  him  that  his  sentence  was  pronounced.  "  But,  sire,"  he 
added,  "  those  wretches  are  not  yet  masters ;  all  honest  men 
will  now  come  forward  to  save  Your  Majesty  or  perish  at 
your  feet."  "  M.  de  Malesherbes,"  said  my  father, "  that  would 
compromise  many  persons  and  bring  civil  war  into  France. 
I  would  rather  die.  I  beg  you  to  order  them  from  me  to 
make  no  movement  to  save  me ;  the  king  does  not  die  in 
France."  After  this  last  conference  he  was  not  allowed  to 
see  his  counsel ;  he  gave  the  municipals  a  note  asking  to  see 
them,  and  complaining  of  the  restraint  he  was  under  in 
being  watched  incessantly ;  no  attention  was  paid  to  this. 

Sunday,  January  20,  Garat,  minister  of  justice,  came  to 
notify  him  that  his  sentence  of  death  would  be  executed  on 
the  morrow ;  my  father  listened  with  courage  and  religion. 
He  asked  a  respite  of  three  days,  to  know  what  would  be- 
come of  his  family,  and  to  obtain  a  Catholic  confessor.  The 
respite  was  refused.  Garat  assm-ed  my  father  that  there  was 
no  charge  against  his  family  and  they  would  all  be  sent  out  of 
the  country.  He  asked  for  a  confessor,  the  Abbd  Edgeworth 
de  Firmont,  whose  address  he  gave.  Garat  brought  him. 
The  king  dined  as  usual,  which  surprised  the  municipals, 
who  expected  that  he  would  wish  to  kill  himself. 

We  learned  the  sentence  pronounced  upon  my  father  on 
that  Sunday,  the  20th,  from  the  news  criers,  who  came  to 
shout  it  under  our  windows.  At  seven  in  the  evening,  a 
decree  of  the  Convention  arrived,  permitting  us  to  go  to  my 
father ;  we  hurried  there  and  found  him  much  changed.  He 
wept  for  sorrow  over  us,  and  not  from  fear  of  death ;  he 
related  his  trial  to  my  mother,  excusing  the  wretches  who 
caused  his  death ;  he  told  her  that  it  was  proposed  to  appeal 
to  the  primary  assemblies,  but  he  opposed  it,  because  that 
measure  would  bring  trouble  into  the  State.  He  then  gave 
religious  instruction  to  my  brother,  told  him  above  all  to 


258  MADAMK    fcLISABKTII   1)E   FRANCE.         [1792-1793 

panltni  tlu>se  who  were  putting  him  to  death,  and  gave  him 
his  blessing ;  also  to  me.  My  mother  ardently  desired  that 
we  should  pass  the  night  with  him ;  he  refused,  making  her 
feel  that  he  had  need  of  tranquillity.  She  begged  him  at 
least  to  let  us  come  the  next  morning ;  he  granted  that  to 
her ;  but  as  soon  as  we  were  gone  he  told  the  guard  not  to 
let  us  come  again,  because  our  presence  pained  him  too 
much.  He  remained  after  that  with  his  confessor,  went  to 
bed  at  midnight,  and  slept  till  five  o'clock,  when  he  was 
wakened  by  the  drums.  At  sis  o'clock,  the  Abbe  Edgeworth 
said  mass,  at  which  my  father  took  the  Communion- 
He  started  about  nine  o'clock ;  as  he  went  down  the  stair- 
way he  gave  his  will  to  a  municipal ;  he  also  gave  him  a  sum 
of  money  which  M.  de  Malesherbes  had  brought  to  him,  and 
requested  the  man  to  return  it ;  but  the  municipals  kept  it 
for  themselves.  He  next  met  a  jailer,  whom  he  had  reproved 
rather  sharply  the  evening  before,  and  said  to  him :  "  Mat- 
thieu,  I  am  sorrj'  to  have  hurt  you."  He  read  the  prayers 
for  the  dying  on  the  way.  Arriving  at  the  scaffold,  he  wished 
to  speak  to  the  people,  but  Santerre  prevented  it  by  making 
the  drums  beat ;  the  few  words  he  was  able  to  say  were  heard 
by  a  few  persons  only.  He  then  removed  his  clothing  him- 
self, his  hands  were  bound  by  his  own  handkerchief,  and  not 
with  a  rope.  At  the  moment  when  he  was  about  to  die  the 
abb^  said  to  him :  Fils  de  Saint-Louis,  montez  au  ciel  —  "  Son 
of  Saint-Louis,  ascend  to  heaven." 

He  received  the  death-blow  at  ten  minutes  past  ten  in  the 
morning  of  January  21,  1793.  Thus  perished  Louis  XVI. 
King  of  France,  aged  thirty-nine  years,  five  months,  and 
three  days,  having  reigned  eighteen  years.  He  had  been  in 
prison  five  months  and  eight  days. 

Such  was  the  life  of  the  king,  my  father,  during  his 
rigorous  capti\'ity,  in  which  nothing  was  seen   but  piety. 


1793]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  259 

grandeur  of  soul,  kindness,  gentleness,  courage,  patience  in 
supporting  the  most  infamous  treatment,  the  most  horrible 
calumnies ;  mercy  in  pardoning  with  all  his  heart  his  mur- 
derers ;  love  of  God,  of  his  family,  of  his  people  —  a  love  of 
which  he  gave  proofs  with  his  last  breath  and  for  which  he 
has  gone  to  receive  his  reward  in  the  bosom  of  an  all-power- 
ful and  merciful  God. 


Life  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple  from  the  Death  of  Louis 
XVI.  to  that  of  the  Queen,  October  16,  1793. 

The  morning  of  that  terrible  day  [of  the  king's  death] 
we  rose  at  six  o'clock.  The  evening  before  my  mother  had 
scarcely  strength  enough  to  undress  my  brother  and  put 
him  to  bed ;  she  then  threw  herself,  dressed  as  she  was, 
upon  her  bed,  and  we  heard  her  through  the  night  trembling 
with  cold  and  sorrow.  At  a  quarter  past  six  they  opened 
our  door  to  look  for  a  prayer-book  for  my  father's  mass; 
we  thought  we  were  to  go  to  him,  and  we  still  had  that 
hope  imtil  the  cries  of  joy  of  a  frenzied  populace  came  to 
inform  us  that  the  crime  was  consummated.  In  the  after- 
noon my  mother  asked  to  see  Clery,  who  was  with  my 
father  to  his  last  moments,  thinking  that  perhaps  he  had 
charged  him  with  messages  for  her.  We  desired  this  shock, 
in  order  to  cause  an  outflow  of  her  gloomy  sorrow  and  re- 
lieve the  suffocated  condition  in  which  we  saw  her.  My 
father  had,  in  fact,  ordered  C16ry  to  return  to  my  unhappy 
mother  his  wedding-ring,  adding  that  he  parted  from  it 
only  in  parting  with  life ;  he  also  gave  him  a  packet  of  my 
mother's  hair  and  ours,  saying  they  had  been  so  dear  to  him 
that  he  had  kept  them  till  the  last  instant.  The  municipals 
informed  us  that  Cl^ry  was  in  a  dreadful  state,  and  in  de- 
spair because  they  refusetl  to  let  him  see  us.     My  mother 


260  MADAMi;    KLlSAIUVni    1)K    IRANCE.  [17'J.1 

fhiin^i'vl  ihoin  to  make  Ikt  nMiucsl  to  the  council  general  ; 
she  alsi>  asked  for  mourning  cU)thes.  C\6ry  passed  another 
month  in  the  Temple  and  was  then  discharged. 

\\'e  now  had  a  little  more  liherty,  the  guards  thinking 
we  were  about  to  be  sent  away.  But  nothing  was  able  to 
calm  the  anguish  of  my  mother;  we  could  make  no  hope 
of  any  sort  enter  her  heart;  slie  was  indifferent  whether 
she  lived  or  died.  She  looked  at  us  sometimes  with  a  pity 
that  made  us  shudder.  Happily,  grief  increased  my  illness, 
and  that  occupied  her.  ^ly  own  doctor,  Brunier,  and  the 
surgeon  La  Gaze  were  brought,  and  they  cured  me  in  a 
month.^ 

We  were  allowed  to  see  the  persons  who  brought  our 
mourning,  but  only  in  presence  of  the  municipals.  My 
mother  would  no  longer  go  do'vvii  into  the  garden,  because 
that  obliged  her  to  pass  the  door  of  my  father's  room,  which 
pained  her  too  much ;  but  fearing  that  want  of  air  might 
harm  my  brother  and  myself,  she  asked,  in  February,  to  go 
up  upon  the  Tower,  which  was  granted  to  her. 

It  was  discovered  that  a  sealed  package  in  the  room  of 

the  municipals,  which  contained  the  king's   seal,  his  ring, 

and  several  other  things,  had  been  opened,  the  seals  broken, 

and  the  contents  carried  away.     The  municipals  were  very 

uneasy;    but  finally  they  believed  it  had  been  done  by  a 

thief  who  knew  that  the  seal  with  the  arms  of  France  was 

set  in  gold.     The  person  who  took  those  things  was  rightly 

intentioned;    he  was  not  a   thief;    he  did  it  for  the  right, 

because  my  mother  wished  the  seal  and  ring  to  be  saved 

for  her  son.     I  know  who  that  brave  man  was ;  but  alas  ! 

he  is  dead,  not  because  of  this  affair,  but  in  consequence  of 

*  Tlie  close  air  and  confinement  liad  produced  boils  which  covered  the 
whole  body  of  la  petite  Madame  as  she  was  called.  Soon  after  her  father's 
death  she  came  near  dying,  and  a  rumour  of  her  death  was  generally 
believed.  —  Tu. 


1793]  NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROY  ALE.  261 

another  good  action.  I  cannot  name  him,  hoping  that  he 
may  have  intrusted  those  precious  objects  to  some  one 
else  before  he  perished.^ 

Dumouriez  having  left  France,  our  imprisonment  became 
more  restricted.  They  built  a  wall  which  separated  us 
'from  the  garden  ;  they  put  shutters  to  the  top  of  the  Tower ; 
and  plugged  all  holes  with  care.  On  the  25th  of  March 
the  chimney  cauglit  fire.  That  evening  Chaumette,  prose- 
cutor of  the  Commune,  came  for  the  first  time  to  see  my 
mother,  and  he  asked  her  if  she  desired  anything.  My 
mother  asked  only  for  a  door  of  communication  between  her 
room  and  that  of  my  aunt.  (The  two  terrible  nights  we 
had  passed  in  her  room  we  had  slept,  my  aunt  and  I,  on 
one  of  her  mattresses  placed  on  the  floor.)  The  municipals 
opposed  that  request;  but  Chaumette  said  that  in  my 
mother's  feeble  state  it  might  be  necessary  for  her  health, 
and  he  would  speak  of  it  to  the  Council  general.  The  next 
day  he  came  back  at  ten  in  the  morning  with  Pache,  the 
mayor,  and  that  dreadful  Santerre,  commander  of  the  Na- 
tional Guard.  Chaumette  told  my  mother  he  had  spoken  to 
the  Council  of  her  request  for  a  door,  which  was  refused. 
She  made  no  answer.  Pache  asked  her  if  she  had  any 
complaints  to  make.  My  mother  said,  "  No,"  and  paid  no 
further  heed  to  him. 

Some  time  later  we  found  certain  mimicipal  guards  who 
soothed  our  giiefs  a  little  by  their  kind  feeling.  We  knew 
after  a  while,  those  with  whom  we  had  to  do;  especially 
my  mother,  who  saved  us  several  times  from  trusting  to  a 
false  show  of   interest.     There  was  also  another  man  who 

1  The  man  was  one  of  the  municipals,  named  Toulan,  wlio  gave  the 
seal  and  ring  to  Turgy,  who  took  them  to  Monsieur,  afterwards  Louis 
XVIII.  (See  Appendix  V.)  Toulan  was  one  of  the  nine  municipals 
guillotined  soon  after  the  queen,  for  having  conspired  to  help  her. 
—  Tk. 


262  MAPAMK    fcLISAHKIH    \)K    KKANCK.  ['"^^ 

did  services  to  my  family.  I  know  all  those  who  took  an 
interi'sl  in  us;  1  do  not  name  thorn,  for  fear  of  compromis- 
ing them  as  things  now  are,  but  the  recollection  of  them 
is  graven  on  my  heart  ;  and  if  1  can  never  show  them  my 
gnititude.  (iod  will  reward  them;  but  if  the  day  comes 
when  I  i-an  name  them  they  will  be  loved  and  esteemed 
by  all  V in  nous  persons.^ 

Precautions  redoubled ;  Tison  was  not  allowed  to  see  his 
daughter,  and  he  became  ill-tempered.  One  evening  a  per- 
son brought  some  articles  for  my  aunt;  he  was  angry  that 
this  man  should  be  allowed  to  enter,  and  not  his  daughter ; 
he  .said  things  which  led  Pache,  who  was  below,  to  send  for 
him.  They  asked  him  why  he  was  so  displeased.  "  At  not 
seeing  my  daughter,"  he  replied,  "  and  because  some  of  these 
municipals  are  behaving  badly."  (He  had  seen  them  speak- 
ing low  to  my  mother  and  aunt.)  They  asked  their  names  ; 
he  gave  them,  and  declared  that  we  had  correspondence  with 
the  outside.  To  furnish  proofs  he  said  that  one  day  my 
mother, on  taking  out  her  handkerchief,  had  let  fall  a  pencil; 
and  another  day  he  had  found  wafers  and  a  pen  in  a  box  in 
my  aunt's  room.  After  this  denunciation,  which  he  signed, 
they  sent  for  his  wife,  who  repeated  the  same  thing ;  she 
accused  several  of  the  municipals,  declared  that  we  had  had 
correspondence  with  my  father  during  his  trial,  and  de- 
nounced my  doctor,  Brunier  (who  treated  me  for  trouble  in 
my  foot),  for  having  brought  us  news.  She  signed  all  that, 
being  led  away  by  her  husband;  but,  in  the  end,  she  had 
great  remorse  for  it.  That  denunciation  was  made  April  19 ; 
the  next  day  she  saw  her  daughter. 

On  the  20th,  at  half-past  ten  at  night,  my  mother  and  I 
had  just  gone  to  bed  when  Hubert  arrived  with  several  other 

^  These  men  were  Toulan,  Lepitre,  Beugneau,  Vincent,  Bruno,  Micho- 
nif ,  and  Merle.  —  Tr.  Ed. 


1793]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME  ROYALE.  263 

municipals ;  we  rose  hastily.  They  read  us  a  decree  of 
the  Convention  ordering,  that  we  be  carefully  searched, 
even  to  the  mattresses.  My  poor  brother  was  asleep; 
they  pulled  him  roughly  out  of  his  bed,  to  search  it;  my 
mother  held  him,  all  shivering  with  cold.  They  took  from 
my  mother  the  address  of  a  shop  she  had  always  kept, 
a  stick  of  sealing-wax  from  my  aunt,  and  from  me  a  Sacred 
Heart  of  Jesus  and  a  prayer  for  France.  Their  search  did 
not  end  till  four  in  the  morning.  They  wrote  a  proces-verbal 
of  all  they  found,  and  obliged  my  mother  and  aimt  to  sign  it, 
threatening  to  carry  us  off,  my  brother  and  me,  if  they  refused. 
They  were  furious  at  having  found  nothing  but  trifles. 
Three  days  later  they  returned,  and  demanded  to  see  my 
aunt  in  private.  They  then  questioned  her  on  a  hat  they 
had  found  in  her  room;  they  wished  to  know  whence  it 
came,  and  how  long  she  had  had  it,  and  why  she  had  kept  it. 
She  answered  that  it  had  belonged  to  my  father  at  the  be- 
ginning of  his  imprisonment  in  the  Temple;  that  she  had 
asked  for  it,  to  preserve  it  for  love  of  her  brother.  The  muni- 
cipals said  they  should  take  it  away  as  a  suspicious  thing ; 
my  aunt  insisted  on  keeping  it,  but  was  not  allowed  to  do 
so.  They  forced  her  to  sign  her  answer  and  they  carried 
away  the  hat. 

Every  day  my  mother  went  up  on  the  Tower  to  have  us 
take  the  air.  For  some  time  past  my  brother  had  complained 
of  a  stitch  in  his  side  [jpoint  de  c6tf\.  May  6th,  at  seven  in 
the  evening,  a  rather  strong  fever  seized  him,  with  headache 
and  the  pain  in  his  side.  At  first  he  could  not  lie  down,  for 
it  suffocated  him.  My  mother  was  uneasy  and  asked  the 
municipals  for  a  doctor.  They  assured  her  the  illness  was 
nothing  and  that  her  motherly  tenderness  was  needlessly 
frightened.  Nevertheless,  tliey  spoke  to  the  Council  and 
asked  in  my  mother's  name  for  Dr.  Brunier,     The  Council 


l>t;4  MADAMK    <^:LISABKTH    1)K    FUANCK.  [1793 

Imi'^heil  al  mv  biDthor's  illness,  because  lli^bert  had  seen 
him  five  hours  earlier  without  fever.  They  positively  refused 
liruiiier.  whom  Tison  had  recently  deuouuced.  Nevertheless, 
the  fever  became  very  strong.  My  aunt  hail  the  goodness  to 
take  my  j^lace  in  my  mother's  room,  that  1  might  not  sleep  in 
a  fever  atmosphere,  and  also  that  she  might  assist  in  nursing 
mv  brother;  slie  took  my  bed,  ami  1  went  to  hers.  The 
fever  lasted  several  days,  the  attacks  being  worse  at 
night. 

Though  my  mother  asked  for  a  doctor,  it  was  several  days 
before  her  request  was  gi-anted.  At  last,  on  a  Sunday,  Thierry, 
the  physician  of  prisons,  was  appointed  by  the  Commune  to 
take  care  of  my  brother.  As  he  came  in  the  morning  he 
found  little  fever,  but  my  mother  asked  him  to  return  in  the 
afternoon,  when  he  found  it  very  high,  and  he  disabused  the 
municipals  of  the  idea  they  had  that  my  mother  was  anxious 
about  nothing ;  he  told  them  that,  on  the  contrary,  the 
matter  was  more  serious  than  she  thought.  He  had  the 
kindness  to  go  and  consult  Brunier  about  my  brother's  ilhiess 
and  the  remedies  that  should  be  given  to  him,  because 
Brunier  knew  his  constitution,  he  being  our  physician  from 
infancy.  He  gave  him  some  remedies,  which  did  him  good. 
Wednesday,  he  made  him  take  medicine,  and  that  night  I 
returned  to  sleep  in  my  mother's  room.  She  felt  much  un- 
easiness on  account  of  that  medicine,  because  the  last  time 
that  my  brother  had  been  purged  he  had  frightful  convul- 
sions and  she  feared  he  might  have  them  again.  She  did 
not  sleep  all  night.  My  brother,  however,  took  his  medicine, 
and  it  did  him  good  without  causing  him  any  accidents.  He 
still  had  attacks  of  fever  from  time  to  time  and  the  stitch  in 
his  side  continued.  His  health  began  from  this  time  to 
change,  and  it  was  never  restored ;  the  want  of  air  and  ex- 
ercise did  him  much  harm,  also  the  sort  of  life  the  poor 


1793]  NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  265 

child  lived,  in  the  midst  of  tears  and  shocks,  alarm  and  con- 
tinual terrors,  at  eight  years  of  age. 

May  31st  we  heard  the  generale  beaten  and  the  tocsin 
rung,  but  no  one  would  tell  us  the  cause  of  the  uproar.  The 
guards  were  forbidden  to  let  us  go  up  on  the  Tower  to  take 
the  air ;  an  order  always  given  when  Paris  was  in  disturb- 
ance. At  the  beginning  of  June,  Chaumette  came  with 
Hubert  and  asked  my  mother  if  she  desired  anything.  She 
answered  no,  and  paid  no  further  attention  to  them.  My  aimt 
asked  Hubert  for  my  father's  hat  which  he  had  taken  away ; 
he  replied  that  the  Council  general  did  not  see  fit  to  return 
it  to  her.  My  aunt,  seeing  that  Chaumette  did  not  go  away, 
and  knowing  how  much  my  mother  suffered  inwardly  from 
his  presence,  asked  him  why  he  had  come  and  why  he  re- 
mained. He  answered  that  he  visited  all  the  prisons,  they 
were  all  equal,  and  therefore  he  came  to  the  Temple.  My 
aunt  replied  no,  because,  in  some,  persons  were  justly  im- 
prisoned, and  others  unjustly.  Chaumette  and  Hubert  were 
both  drunk. 

Mme.  Tison  became  insane ;  she  was  anxious  about  my 
brother's  illness  and  had  long  been  tortured  by  remorse ;  she 
languished  and  would  not  take  the  air.  One  day  she  began 
to  talk  to  herself.  Alas !  it  made  me  laugh,  and  my  poor 
mother,  also  my  aunt,  looked  at  me  with  satisfaction,  as  if  my 
laughter  did  them  good.  But  Mme.  Tison's  insanity  increased ; 
she  talked  aloud  of  her  wrong-doings,  of  her  denunciations, 
of  the  prison,  of  the  scaffold,  of  the  queen,  of  her  own  family, 
and  of  our  sorrows ;  admitting  that  because  of  her  bad  deeds 
she  was  unworthy  to  approach  my  family.  She  thought  that 
those  whom  she  had  denounced  had  perished.  Every  day 
she  watched  for  the  municipals  whom  she  had  accused ;  not 
seeing  them  she  went  to  bed  gloomy  ;  there  she  had  frightful 
dreams  and  uttered  cries,  which  we  heard.     The  municipals 


206  MADAMH    ELISAUETH    DK    FKANCE.  [I7a;l 

jvllowcU  her  lo  soi'  lu-r  duugliler,  whom  she  loved.  One  day 
the  poller,  who  did  uot  kuow  of  this  permission,  refused 
enlrauee  lo  I  he  daughter.  The  municipals,  finding  the  mother 
desjHjrale,  sl^nt  for  her  at  leu  at  night.  That  late  hour 
alarmed  the  woman  still  more ;  she  was  very  unwilling  to 
go  down,  and  said  to  her  husband :  "  They  are  gomg  to  take 
us  lo  prison."  She  saw  her  daughter,  but  could  not  recognize 
her.  She  went  back  with  a  numicipal,  but  on  the  middle  of 
the  stairway  she  would  neither  go  up  nor  down.  The  mu- 
nicipal alarmed,  called  others  to  make  her  go  up;  when 
there,  she  would  not  go  to  bed,  but  talked  and  shouted,  which 
prevented  my  family  from  sleeping.  The  next  day,  the  doc- 
tor saw  her  and  found  her  quite  mad.  She  was  always  on 
her  knees  to  my  mother,  begging  her  forgiveness.  It  is  im- 
possible to  have  more  pity  than  my  mother  and  my  aunt  had 
for  this  woman,  to  whom  assuredly  they  had  no  reason  to 
feel  kindly.  They  took  care  of  her  and  encouraged  her  all 
the  time  she  remained  in  the  Temple  in  this  state.  They 
tried  to  calm  her  by  the  sincere  assurance  of  their  pardon. 
The  next  day  the  guards  took  her  from  the  Tower  and  put 
her  in  the  chateau  of  the  Temple,  but,  her  madness  increas- 
ing, they  removed  her  to  the  Hotel-Dieu  and  put  a  woman 
to  spy  upon  her  and  report  the  things  she  might  let  drop. 

On  the  3d  of  July,  they  read  us  a  decree  of  the  Conven- 
tion ordering  that  my  brother  be  separated  from  us  and 
lodged  in  a  more  secure  room  in  the  Tower.  Hardly  had  he 
heard  it  when  he  flimg  himself  into  his  mother's  arms  uttering 
loud  cries,  and  imploring  not  to  be  parted  from  her.  My 
mother,  on  her  side,  was  struck  down  by  the  cruel  order ;  she 
would  not  give  up  her  son,  and  defended,  against  the  munici- 
pals, the  bed  on  which  she  placed  him.  They,  absolutely 
determined  to  have  him,  threatened  to  employ  violence  and 
to  call  up  the  guard.     My  mother  told  them  they  would 


1793]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME  ROYALE.  267 

have  to  kill  her  before  they  could  tear  her  child  from  her. 

An  hour  passed  in  resistance  on  her   part,  in  threats  and 

insults  from  the  municipals,  in  tears  and  efforts  from  all  of 

us.     At  last  they  threatened  my  mother  so  positively  to  kill 

him  and  us  also  that  she  had  to  yield  for  love  of  us.     We 

rose,  my  aunt  and  I,  for  my  poor  mother  no  longer  had  any 

strength,  but  after  we  had  dressed  him  she  took  him  and 

gave  him  into  the  hands  of  the  municipals  herself,  bathing 

him   with    tears    and     foreboding    that   she    would   never 

see   him   again.     The   poor  little   boy   kissed   us   all   very 

tenderly  and  went  away  in  tears  with  the  municipals.     My 

mother  charged  them  to   ask    permission  of    the   Council 

general  to  let  her  see  her  son,  if  only  at  meals,  and  they 

promised  her  to  do  so.    She  was  overcome  by  the  separation ; 

but  her  anguish  was  at  its  height  when  she  learned  that 

Simon,  a  shoemaker,  whom  she  had  seen  as  a  municipal,  was 

intrusted  with  the  care  of  the  unfortunate  child.     She  asked 

incessantly  to  see  him,  but  could  not  obtain  it ;  my  brother, 

on  his  side,  wept  for  two  whole  days,  never  ceasing  to  ask  to 

see  us. 

The  municipals  no  longer  remained  in  my  mother's  room  ; 

we  were  locked  in  night  and  day  and  under  bolts.     This  was 

a  comfort,  as  it  relieved  us  of  the  presence  of  such  persons. 

The  guards  came  only  three  times  a  day,  to  bring  our  meals 

and  examine  the  windows  to  make  sure  that  the  bars  were 

not  cut.     We  had  no  one  to  wait  upon  us,  but  we  liked  this 

best ;  my  aunt  and  I  made  the  beds,  and  served  my  mother. 

In  the  cabinet  in  the  tourelle  was  a  narrow  opening  through 

which  we  could  see  my  brother  when  he  went  up  to  the 

battlements,  and  the  sole  pleasure  my  mother  had  was  to  see 

him  through  that  little  chink  as  he  passed  in  the  distance. 

She  stayed  there  for  hours,  watching  for  the  instant  when  she 

could  see  the  child ;  it  was  her  sole  hope,  her  sole  occupa- 
18  Mem.  V<!r.  9 


268  MADAMK    fcUSAHKllI    DK    KUANCK.  [1793 

tion.  She  mroly  lieanl  news  i)f  him,  wlieLlier  from  the 
muuiciiuils  or  from  Tison,  who  s(»metiines  saw  Simou.  Tison, 
to  repair  his  past  coiuliKt,  behaved  better,  aud  sometimes 
gave  news  to  us. 

As  for  Simon,  he  maltreated  my  brother  beyond  what  we 
could  have  imagined,  and  all  the  more  because  the  child 
wept  at  being  parted  from  us;  but  at  last  he  frightened 
him  so  much  that  the  poor  boy  dared  not  shed  tears.  My 
aunt  entreated  Tison,  and  those  who  in  pity  gave  us  news  of 
him,  to  conceal  these  horrors  from  my  mother;  she  knew  or 
suspected  enough.  The  rumour  ran  that  my  brother  had 
been  seen  on  the  boulevard  ;  the  guards,  vexed  at  not  seeing 
him,  declared  he  was  no  longer  in  the  Temple.  Alas !  we 
hoped  this  for  a  moment ;  but  the  Convention  ordered  him 
to  be  taken  down  into  the  garden  that  people  might  see  him. 
There  my  brother,  whom  they  had  not  had  time  to  change 
entirely,  complained  of  being  separated  from  my  mother,  and 
asked  to  see  the  law  that  ordered  it ;  but  they  made  him  hold 
his  tongue.  The  members  of  the  Convention,  who  had  come 
to  make  certain  of  my  brother's  presence,  went  up  to  my 
mother.  She  complained  to  them  of  the  cruelty  shown  in 
taking  hex  son  from  her ;  they  answered  that  it  was  thought 
necessary  to  take  that  measure.  A  new  prosecutor-general 
also  came  to  see  us ;  his  manners  astonished  us,  in  spite  of 
all  we  had  learned  to  expect  from  our  troubles.  From  the 
moment  that  man  entered  until  he  left  he  did  nothing  but 
swear. 

On  the  2d  of  August,  at  two  in  the  morning'  they  woke 
us  up  to  read  to  my  mother  the  decree  of  the  Convention 
which  ordered  that,  on  the  requisition  of  the  prosecutor  of  the 
Commime,  she  should  be  taken  to  the  Conciergerie  in  pre- 
paration for  her  trial.  She  listened  to  the  reading  of  the 
decree  without  emotion,  and  without  saying  a  single  word. 


1793]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  269 

My  aunt  and  I  asked  at  once  to  go  with  my  mother,  but 
this  mercy  was  not  granted  to  us.  While  she  was  mak- 
ing up  a  parcel  of  her  clothes  the  municipals  never  left  her ; 
she  was  obliged  to  even  dress  herself  before  them.  They 
asked  for  her  pockets,  which  she  gave  them  ;  they  searched 
them  and  took  all  that  was  in  them  although  there  was 
nothing  of  importance.  They  made  a  packet  of  these  articles 
and  said  they  should  send  it  to  the  revolutionary  tribunal, 
where  it  would  be  opened  before  her.  They  left  her  only  a 
handkerchief  and  a  smelling-bottle,  in  the  fear  that  she  might 
be  taken  faint. 

My  mother,  after  tenderly  embracing  me  and  telling  me 
to  have  courage,  to  take  good  care  of  my  aunt,  and  to  obey 
her  as  a  second  mother,  repeated  to  me  the  same  instructions 
that  my  father  had  given  me ;  then  throwing  herself  into  my 
aunt's  arms  she  commended  her  children  to  her.  I  answered 
nothing,  so  terrified  was  I  at  the  idea  that  I  saw  her  for  the 
last  time  ;  my  aunt  said  a  few  words  to  her  in  a  low  voice. 
Then  my  mother  went  away  without  casting  her  eyes  upon 
us,  fearing  no  doubt  that  her  firmness  might  abandon  her. 
She  stopped  once  at  the  foot  of  the  Tower,  because  the  muni- 
cipals had  to  make  a  prochs^erlal  to  discharge  the  concierge 
from  the  care  of  her  person.  As  she  went  out,  she  struck 
her  head  against  the  lintel  of  the  door,  not  thinking  to  lower 
it.  They  asked  her  if  she  was  hurt.  "  Oh,  no,"  she  said ; 
"  nothing  can  hurt  me  now." 

She  was  put  into  a  carriage  with  a  municipal  and  two 
gendarmes.  On  reaching  the  Conciergerie  they  placed  her  in 
the  dirtiest,  dampest,  most  unwholesome  room  in  the  build- 
ing. She  was  kept  in  sight  by  a  gendarme,  who  never  left 
her  day  or  night.  My  aunt  and  I  were  inconsolable  and  we 
passed  many  days  and  nights  in  tears.  They  had,  however; 
assured  my  aunt,  when  my  mother  was  taken,  that  no  harm 


270  MADAMK    f:LISAni:T!I    DK    FRANCE.  [17«.)3 

woulil  happen  to  lier.  It  was  a  threat  cunsolation  for  me  not 
to  he  ]n\rleil  from  my  aunt,  whom  I  loved  much ;  but  alas ! 
all  is  now  chan^^ed,  and  1  have  lost  her  too  ! 

The  da}-  after  my  mother's  departure,  my  aunt  asked  urg- 
ently, in  her  name  and  mine,  to  be  reunited  with  her ;  but 
she  could  not  obtain  it,  nor  even  get  any  news  of  her.  As 
my  mother,  who  never  drank  anything  but  water,  could  not 
endure  that  of  the  Seine,  which  made  her  ill,  we  begged  the 
nmnicipals  to  send  her  that  of  Ville  d'Avray,  which  was 
brought  daily  past  the  Temple.  They  consented,  and  got  a 
decree  in  consequence  ;  but  another  of  their  colleagues  anived 
just  then  and  opposed  it.  A  few  days  later,  my  mother,  in 
order  to  get  news  of  us,  tried  to  send  for  some  necessary 
articles,  among  others  her  knitting,  for  she  had  begun  a  pair 
of  stockings  for  my  brother.  We  sent  it,  together  with  all 
we  could  find  of  silks  and  wools,  for  we  knew  how  she  liked 
to  be  busy ;  she  had  a  habit  in  former  days  of  always 
being  at  work,  except  in  her  hours  of  public  appearance. 
In  this  way,  she  had  covered  a  vast  quantity  of  furniture 
and  had  even  made  a  carpet  and  a  great  deal  of  coarse-wool 
knitting  of  all  kinds.  We  therefore  collected  all  we  could  ; 
but  we  learned  afterwards  that  nothing  had  been  given  to 
her,  fearing,  they  said,  that  she  might  do  herself  a  harm 
with  the  knitting-needles. 

Sometimes  we  heard  news  of  my  brother  from  the  muni- 
cipals ;  but  that  did  not  last  long.  We  could  hear  him 
every  day  singing,  with  Simon,  the  Carmagnole,  the  air  of 
the  Marseillais,  and  other  horrors.  Simon  made  him  wear 
the  bonnet  rouge,  and  a  carmagnole,  and  sing  at  the  windows 
to  be  heard  by  the  Garde ;  he  taught  him  to  swear  dread- 
ful oaths  against  God,  his  family,  and  aristocrats.  My 
mother,  happily,  did  not  hear  these  honors ;  oh  !  my  God, 
what  harm  they  would  have  done  her  !     Before  her  depart- 


1793]  NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  271 

ure,  they  had  come  for  my  brother's  clothes ;  she  said  she 
hoped  they  would  not  take  off  his  mourning ;  but  the  first 
thing  Simon  did  was  to  take  away  his  black  coat.  The 
change  of  life  and  his  bad  treatment  made  my  brother  ill 
towards  the  end  of  August.  Simon  made  him  eat  horribly 
and  forced  him  to  drink  much  wine,  which  he  detested. 
All  this  gave  him  fever;  he  took  medicine  which  did  him 
harm,  and  his  health  became  wholly  out  of  order.  He  grew 
extremely  fat  but  did  not  gi-ow  taller,  Simon,  however, 
still  took  him  on  the  Tower  to  get  air. 

At  the  beginning  of  September  I  had  an  illness  which 
had  no  other  cause  than  my  anxiety  about  my  mother's  fate. 
I  could  not  hear  the  drums  without  fearing  another  Septem- 
ber 2d.  We  went  up  on  the  Tower  daily.  The  municipals 
paid  their  visits  punctually  three  times  a  day;  but  their 
severity  did  not  prevent  us  from  hearing  news  from  without, 
especially  of  my  mother,  which  we  cared  for  most.  In  spite 
of  all  their  efforts,  we  always  found  some  good  souls  in  whom 
we  inspired  interest.  We  learned  that  my  mother  was  accused 
of  having  correspondence  with  the  outside.  Immediately  we 
threw  away  our  writings,  pencils,  everything  we  still  kept, 
fearing  that  they  might  make  us  undress  before  Simon's  wife 
and  that  the  things  we  had  might  compromise  my  mother ; 
for  we  had  always  kept  paper,  ink,  pens,  and  pencils,  in  spite 
of  the  closest  search  in  our  rooms  and  furniture.  We  heard 
also  that  my  mother  might  have  escaped,  and  that  the  wife 
of  the  concierge  was  kind  and  took  great  care  of  her. 

The  municipals  came  and  asked  us  for  my  mother's  linen, 
but  they  would  give  us  no  news  of  her  health.  They  took 
away  from  us  the  pieces  of  tapestry  which  she  had  worked, 
and  those  on  which  we  were  then  workmg,  under  pretext 
that  there  might  be  mysterious  signs  in  that  tapestry  and 
a  peculiar  kind  of  writing. 


'2~2  MADAMK    f:i,lSAHKrH    DH    KIJANCIv  [1793 

Soptoinbor  lilst  at  one  o'clock  in  llic  iiiorniii;^',  H(''l)erL 
jirrivotl  with  several  municipals  to  execute  a  decree  of  the 
Comimine,  wliich  t»iilereil  that  we  should  be  more  closely 
confined,  and  iiave  in  future  luit  one  room  ;  that  Tison,  who 
siill  did  ihe  heavy  work,  sliould  he  ])ut  in  ])rison  in  the 
'I\)\ver;  that  we  shouhl  be  reduced  to  simple  necessaries,  and 
that  we  should  have  a  grating  at  our  entrance  door  through 
which  our  food  should  be  passed,  and  finally,  that  no  one 
should  entei'  our  room  but  the  bearers  of  wood  and  water. 
This  grating  was  not  })Ut  in  the  door  and  the  municipals 
continued  to  enter  three  times  a  day  to  bring  our  food  and 
carefully  examme  the  bars  of  our  window,  the  closets,  and 
bureaus.  We  made  our  beds,  and  were  obliged  to  sweep 
our  room,  which  took  a  long  time  from  the  little  practice  we 
had  of  it  in  the  beginning.  We  had  no  one  now  to  serve 
us.  Hubert  told  my  aunt  that  in  the  French  republic 
equality  was  the  first  law,  that  the  prisoners  in  other  prisons 
had  no  one  to  serve  them,  and  he  should  now  take  Tison 
from  us.^ 

In  order  to  treat  us  with  still  more  harshness  they  de- 
prived us  of  what  were  little  comforts ;  for  example,  they 
took  away  the  arm-chair  in  which  my  aunt  always  sat,  and 
many  other  things;  we  were  not  even  allowed  what  was 
necessary.  We  could  no  longer  learn  any  news,  unless  from 
the  street  hawkers,  and  then  indistinctly  though  we  listened 
closely.     They  forbade  us  to  go  up  on  the  Tower,  and  they 

^  Turgy,  in  his  "  Historical  Fragments,"  thus  relates  how  the  captives 
were  treatefl  as  to  meals  (he  was  on  service  in  the  kitchen  and  it  was  his 
duty  to  bring  up  the  meals):  "That  day  the  commissioners  ordered 
us  to  take  up  the  dinner  as  usual,  but  they  would  not  let  us  lay  the  table. 
They  gave  each  princess  a  plate  in  which  they  put  soup  and  a  bit  of  beef, 
and  a  piece  of  coarse  bread  on  the  side  of  it ;  they  gave  them  a  pewter 
Bpoon,  an  iron  fork,  and  a  black-handled  knife,  and  a  bottle  of  wine  from 
a  tavern.  The  commissioners  then  made  us  serve  to  themselves  the  dinner 
prepared  for  the  princesses."  —  Fr.  Ed. 


1793]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  273 

took  away  our  large  sheets,  for  fear  that,  in  spite  of  the 
bars,  we  might  escape  through  the  windows ;  that  was  only 
a  pretext.  They  gave  us,  in  exchange,  very  coarse  and  dirty 
blankets. 

I  believe  it  was  about  that  time  that  my  mother's  trial 
began.  I  heard,  after  her  death,  that  friends  had  tried  to 
rescue  her  from  the  Conciergerie.  I  was  assured  that  the 
gendarmes  who  guarded  her  and  the  wife  of  the  concierge 
had  been  bribed  by  one  of  our  friends ;  that  she  had  seen 
several  very  devoted  persons  in  the  prison,  among  them  a 
priest  who  administered  to  her  the  sacraments,  which  she 
received  with  great  piety.  The  opportunity  to  escape  failed 
once  because,  having  been  told  to  speak  to  the  second  guard, 
she  made,  a  mistake  and  spoke  to  the  first.  Another  time 
she  was  out  of  her  room  and  had  already  passed  the  corri- 
dor, when  a  gendarme  stopped  her,  although  he  was  bribed, 
and  forced  her  to  go  back  to  her  room,  which  defeated  the 
enterprise.  Many  persons  took  interest  in  my  mother ; 
indeed,  unless  they  were  monsters  of  the  vilest  species  — 
and  such,  alas  !  many  were  —  it  was  impossible  to  approach 
her  and  see  her  for  even  a  few  moments  without  being  filled 
with  respect,  so  much  did  kindness  temper  what  was  stately 
and  dignified  in  her  bearing.  But  we  knew  none  of  these 
details  at  that  time ;  we  knew  only  that  my  mother  had 
seen  a  Chevalier  de  Saint-Louis  who  had  given  her  a  pink 
in  which  was  a  note  ;  but  we  were  now  so  closely  confined 
we  could  not  learn  the  result.^ 

Every  day  we  were  searched  by  the  municipals.  On  the 
4th  of  September  they  came  at  four  in  the  morning  to  make 
a  thorough  visitation  and  take  away  the  silver  and  the 
china.     They  took  all  that  was   loft  to  us,  and  finding  an 

•  This  was  M.  de  RouKcvillo  ;  mention  is  made  of  his  visit  to  tlie  queen 
in  tlie  Conciergerie  in  Count  Fersen's  Diary.  —  Tr. 


274  MADAME   /OLISAniyrH   DE   FRANCE.  [1793 

nrtiole  missing  thoy  had  the  baseness  to  accuse  us  of  hav- 
ing stolon  it,  whereas  it  was  one  of  their  colleagues  who  had 
hidden  it.  They  found  behind  the  drawers  of  my  aunt's 
wash-stand  a  roll  of  louis,  which  they  seized  with  extraor- 
dinar}'  avidity.  They  questioned  my  aunt  closely  to  know 
who  gave  her  that  gold,  how  long  she  had  had  it,  and  for 
whom  she  was  keeping  it.  She  answered  that  the  Pruicesse 
de  Lamballe  had  given  it  to  her  after  the  10th  of  August, 
and  that,  in  spite  of  all  the  searches,  she  had  preserved  it. 
They  asked  her  who  had  given  it  to  Madame  de  Lamballe, 
and  she  said  she  did  not  know.  The  fact  was  that  the 
Prineesse  de  Lamballe's  women  had  found  means  to  send 
the  money  to  her  in  the  Temple,  and  she  had  shared  it  with 
my  parents.  They  questioned  me  also,  asked  my  name,  as 
if  they  did  not  know  it,  and  made  me  sign  the  proch- 
rerhal. 

October  8th  at  midday,  as  we  were  busy  doing  up  our 
chamber  and  dressing  ourselves,  Pache,  Chaumette,  and 
Da\'id,  members  of  the  Convention,  arrived  with  several 
municipals.  My  aunt  would  not  open  the  door  until  she 
was  dressed.  Pache,  turning  to  me,  requested  me  to  go 
down.  My  aunt  wished  to  follow  me ;  they  refused  her. 
She  asked  if  I  should  return.  Chaumette  assured  her  that 
I  should,  saying :  "  You  may  rely  on  the  word  of  a  good 
republican."  I  kissed  my  aunt,  who  was  trembling  all  over, 
and  I  went  down.  I  was  very  embarrassed  ;  it  was  the  first 
time  I  was  ever  alone  with  men;  I  did  not  know  what 
they  wanted  of  me,  but  I  commended  myself  to  God.  On 
the  staircase  Chaumette  wished  to  do  me  civilities ;  I  did 
not  answer  him.  Entering  my  brother's  room  I  kissed  him 
tenderly ;  but  they  snatched  him  from  my  arms  telling  me 
to  pass  on  into  the  next  room.  There  Chaumette  made 
me  sit  down ;  he  placed  himself  in  front  of  me.     A  munici- 


1793]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  275 

pal  took  a  pen,  and  Chaumette  asked  me  my  name.  After 
that  Hebert  questioned  me ;  he  began  thus :  — 

"Tell  the  truth.  This  does  not  concern  either  you  or 
your  relations." 

"  Does  it  not  concern  my  mother  ? " 

"  No ;  but  persons  who  have  not  done  their  duty.  Do  you 
know  the  citizens  Toulan,  Lepitre,  Bruno,  Bugnot,  Merle,  and 
Michonis  ? " 

"  No." 

"  What,  you  do  not  know  them  ? " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"  That  is  false,  especially  as  to  Toulan,  that  small  young 
man  who  often  waited  on  you  in  the  Temple." 

"  I  did  not  know  him  any  more  than  the  others." 

"  You  remember  a  day  when  you  stayed  alone  with  your 
brother  on  the  tower  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Your  relations  sent  you  there  that  they  might  talk  more 
at  their  ease  with  those  men." 

"  No,  monsieur,  it  was  to  accustom  us  to  the  cold." 

"  What  did  you  do  on  the  tower  ?  " 

"  We  talked,  we  played." 

"  And,  on  going  out,  did  you  see  what  those  men  brought 
to  your  relations  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  see  anything." 

Chaumette  then  questioned  me  on  a  great  many  vile 
things  of  which  they  accused  my  mother  and  my  aunt.  I 
was  aghast  at  such  horrors,  and  so  indignant  that,  in  spite 
of  the  fear  I  felt,  I  could  not  keep  myself  from  saying  it 
was  an  infamy.  In  spite  of  my  tears  they  insisted  long. 
There  were  things  I  did  not  understand,  but  what  I  did 
understand  was  so  horrible  that  I  wept  with  indignation. 
Then  they  questioned  me  on  Varennes,  and  asked  me  many 


270  MADAMK    fOLISABKTH    DK    FRANCE.  [1791 

questions  whu-h  1  aiisworod  as  best  I  could  without  com- 
luoinisinj^  any  one.  I  had  always  heard  my  parents  say 
that  it  was  belter  to  ilie  than  to  compromise  any  one,  no 
matter  who.  At  last  my  examination  ended,  at  three 
o'clock ;  it  began  at  midday.  1  asked  Chaumette  ardently 
to  reunite  me  with  my  mother,  telling  him,  with  truth, 
that  I  had  asked  it  a  thousand  times  of  my  aunt.  "1  can 
do  nothing  about  it,"  he  said.  "  What !  monsieur,  cannot 
you  obtain  it  from  the  Council  general ? "  "I  have  no 
authority  there,"  he  replied.  He  then  sent  me  back  to  my 
room  with  three  municipals,  telling  me  to  say  nothing  to 
my  aunt,  who  was  now  to  be  brought  down.  On  arriving 
I  threw  myself  into  her  arms,  but  they  separated  us  and 
told  her  to  go  down. 

They  asked  her  the  same  questions  that  they  asked  me 
about  the  persons  I  have  named.  She  denied  all  communi- 
cation with  the  outside  and  replied  with  still  greater  con- 
tempt to  the  vile  things  about  which  they  questioned  her. 
She  returned  at  four  o'clock :  her  examination  had  lasted 
only  one  hour,  mine  three ;  this  was  because  the  deputies 
saw  they  could  not  intimidate  her  as  they  expected  to  do 
with  one  of  my  age ;  but  the  life  I  had  led  for  four  years, 
and  the  example  of  my  relations  had  given  me  strength  of 
soul. 

Chaumette  had  assured  us  that  our  examination  did  not 
concern  my  mother  or  ourselves,  and  that  she  would  not  be 
tried.  Alas !  he  deceived  us,  for  my  mother  was  tried  and 
condemned  soon  after.  I  do  not  yet  know  the  circumstances 
of  her  trial,  of  which  we  were  ignorant,  as  we  were  of  her 
death ;  therefore  I  can  only  say  what  I  have  since  discov- 
ered.i     She  had  two  defenders,  MM.  Ducoudray  and  Chau- 

^  This  part  of  tlie  Narrative  was  written,  it  will  he  remembered,  during 
the  last  solitary  mf)nt)is  of  her  life  in  the  Tower.  —  Tr. 


1793]  NARRATIVE  OF  MADAME  ROYALE.  277 

veau-Lagarde.  Many  persons  were  brought  up  before  her, 
among  whom  some,  alas !  were  very  estimable,  others  were 
not.  Simon  and  Matthieu,  the  jailer  at  the  Temple,  appeared. 
I  think  of  how  my  mother  must  have  suffered  when  she 
saw  those  men  whom  she  knew  were  near  us.  They  sum- 
moned Dr.  Brunier  before  the  tribunal.  They  asked  him  if 
he  knew  my  mother.  "  Yes."  "  Since  when  ? "  "  Since 
1788,  when  the  queen  coniided  to  me  the  health  of  her 
children."  "When  you  went  to  the  Temple  did  you  pro- 
cure for  the  prisoners  correspondence  with  the  outside  ? " 
"  No."  My  mother  here  said :  "  Dr.  Brunier,  as  you 
know,  never  came  to  the  Temple  unless  accompanied 
by  a  municipal,  and  never  spoke  to  us  except  in  his 
presence." 

Finally,  inconceivable  fact !  my  mother's  examination 
lasted  three  days  and  three  nights  without  discontinuing. 
They  questioned  her  on  all  the  vile  thijigs  about  which 
Chaumette  had  questioned  us — the  mere  idea  could  enter 
the  minds  of  only  such  men.  "  I  appeal  to  all  mothers," 
was  her  answer  to  that  infamous  accusation.  The  people 
were  touched.  The  judges,  alarmed  and  fearing  that  her 
firmness,  her  dignity,  her  courage  would  inspire  interest, 
hastened  to  condemn  her.  My  mother  heard  her  sentence 
with  much  calmness. 

They  gave  her  for  her  last  moments  a  priest  who  had 
taken  the  oath.  After  gently  refusing  him,  she  took  no 
further  notice  of  what  he  said  to  her,  and  would  not  make 
use  of  his  ministiy.  She  knelt  down,  prayed  to  God  alone 
for  a  long  time,  coughed  a  little,  then  went  to  bed  and  slept 
some  hours.  The  next  morning,  knowing  that  the  rector 
of  Sainte-Marguerite  was  in  prison  opposite  to  her,  she 
went  to  the  window,  looked  at  liis  window,  and  knelt  down. 
I  am  told  that  he  gave  her  absolution  or  his  blessing.     Then, 


27.^  MADAME   feLISABl<:TlI    I)E    FRANCE.         [1793-1795 

having  nuulo  the  sacritice  of  her  life,  she  went  to  death 
with  courage,  amid  curses  which  the  unhappy,  misguided 
people  poured  forth  against  her.  Her  courage  did  not 
abandon  her  in  the  cart,  nor  on  the  scaffold;  she  showed 
as  uuich  in  death  as  she  had  shown  in  life. 

Thus  died,  October  16,  1793,  Marie- Antoinette- Jeanne- 
Jos^phe  de  LoiTaine,  daughter  of  an  emperor  and  wife  of 
a  king  of  France,  aged  thirty-seven  years  and  eleven 
months,  having  been  twenty-three  years  in  France.  She 
died  eight  months  after  her  husband,  Louis  XVI. 


Life  in  the  Temple  till  the  Martyrdom  of  Madame  JElisabeth 
and  the  Death  of  the  Dauphin,  Louis  XVIL 

TVe  were  ignorant,  my  aunt  and  I,  of  the  death  of  my 
mother,  though  we  heard  the  hawkers  crying  her  condem- 
nation in  the  streets  ;  but  hope,  so  natural  to  the  unhappy, 
made  us  think  she  had  been  saved.  We  refused  to  believe 
in  a  general  abandonment.^  But  I  do  not  yet  know  what 
things  have  happened  outside,  nor  if  I  myself  will  ever  leave 
this  prison,  though  they  give  me  hopes  of  it. 

There  were  moments  when,  in  spite  of  our  hope  in  the 
Powers,  we  felt  keen  anxiety  about  my  mother,  when  we  saw 
the  fury  of  the  unhappy  populace  against  us.  I  remained  in 
this  cruel  uncertainty  for  one  year  and  a  half ;  then  only, 
did  I  learn  my  misfortune,  and  the  death  of  my  honoured 
mother. 

"We  learned  from  the  hawkers  the  death  of  the  Due 
d'Orl^ans;  this  was  the  only  news  that  reached  us  during 

■  They  were  abandoned  virtually  by  all  Europe.  See  the  Diary  and 
Correspondence  of  Count  Fersen,  the  preceding  volume  of  this  Historical 
Series.  —  Tb. 


1793-1795]  NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROY  ALE.  279 

the  winter  [of  1793-94].  But  the  searches  continued  and 
they  treated  us  with  much  severity.  My  aunt,  who,  since 
the  Eevohition,  had  an  ulcer  on  her  arm,  had  great  difficulty 
in  obtaining  what  was  necessary  to  dress  it ;  it  was  long 
refused  to  her.  At  last,  one  day,  a  municipal  represented 
the  inhumanity  of  such  treatment,  and  an  ointment  was  sent. 
They  deprived  me  also  of  the  means  of  making  an  herb-tea 
which  my  aunt  made  me  take  every  morning  for  my  health. 
Having  no  fish,  she  asked  for  eggs  or  other  dishes  on  fast- 
days.  They  refused  them,  saying  that  in  equality  there  was 
no  difference  of  days ;  there  were  no  weeks,  only  decades. 
They  brought  us  a  new  almanac,  but  we  did  not  look  at  it. 
Another  time,  when  my  aunt  again  asked  for  fast-day  food 
they  answered :  "  Why,  cito//cnne,  don't  you  know  what  has 
taken  place  ?  none  but  fools  believe  all  that."  She  made  no 
further  requests. 

They  continued  to  search  us,  especially  in  the  month  of 
November.  An  order  was  given  to  search  us  every  day  three 
times ;  one  search  lasted  from  four  in  the  afternoon  till  half- 
past  eight  at  night.  The  four  mimicipals  who  made  it  were 
all  drimk.  No  one  could  form  an  idea  of  their  talk,  their 
insults,  their  oaths  during  those  four  hours.  They  carried 
away  mere  trifles,  such  as  our  hats,  cards  having  kings  on 
them,  books  in  which  were  coats  of  arms ;  and  yet,  they  left 
religious  books,  after  saying  impurities  and  follies  about 
them.  Simon  accused  us  of  forging  assignats  and  of  having 
correspondence  with  the  outside.  He  declared  we  had  com- 
municated with  my  father  during  his  trial.  He  made  a 
declaration  in  the  name  of  my  poor  little  brother,  whom  he 
had  forced  to  sign  it.  A  noise,  that  he  said  was  the  false 
money  he  accused  us  of  making,  was  that  of  our  backgam- 
mon, which  my  aunt,  wishing  to  amuse  me  a  little,  had  been 
kind  enough  to  teach  me.     We  played  it  in  the   evening 


2S0  MADA.MK    /M.ISABKIII    DH    I'KANCK.  [  17lt.l-17'Jf. 

liming  iho  winU'r,  which  passi'il  nillu'r  ([uielly,  in  sjiiU;  of 
tlu*  inquisition  and  searches.  They  gave  us  wood  to  hmn, 
which  I  hey   hail  hitherto  refused  us. 

.lanuary  19th  we  heard  a  great  noise  in  my  brother's 
n'oni.  whiili  made  us  ei»njecture  that  they  were  taking  him 
from  the  Temple;  we  were  couviuced  of  it  when,  looking 
thn>ugh  the  key-hole,  we  saw  them  carrying  away  packages. 
The  following  days  as  we  heard  his  door  open  and  persons 
walking  in  his  room  we  were  more  than  ever  convinced  that 
he  was  gone.  "NVe  thought  they  had  put  some  important 
personage  in  the  lower  room ;  but  I  have  since  learned  that 
it  was  Simon  who  had  gone  away.  Obliged  to  choose  be- 
tween his  office  as  mimicipal  and  that  of  jailer  to  my  brother, 
he  preferred  the  former.  I  have  since  heard  also  that  they 
had  the  cruelty  to  leave  my  poor  brother  alone ;  unheard-of 
barbarity  which  has  surely  no  other  example !  that  of  aban- 
doning a  poor  child  only  eight  years  old,  already  ill,  and 
keeping  him  locked  and  bolted  in,  with  no  succour  but  a  bell, 
which  he  did  not  ring,  so  afraid  was  he  of  the  persons  it  would 
call ;  he  preferred  to  want  for  all  rather  than  ask  anything  of 
his  persecutors. 

He  lay  in  a  bed  which  had  not  been  made  for  more  than  six 
months,  and  he  now  had  no  strength  to  make  it ;  fleas  and 
bugs  covered  him,  his  linen  and  his  person  were  full  of  them. 
His  shirt  and  stockings  had  not  been  changed  for  a  year;  his 
excrements  remained  in  the  room,  no  one  had  removed  them 
during  all  that  time.  His  window,  the  bars  of  which  were 
secured  by  a  padlock,  was  never  opened  ;  it  was  impossible 
to  stay  in  his  chamber  on  account  of  the  foul  odour.  It  is 
true  that  my  brother  neglected  himself;  he  might  have 
taken  rather  more  care  of  his  person ;  he  could  at  least  have 
washed  himself,  because  they  gave  him  a  pitcher  of  water. 
But  the  unhappy  child  was  half  dead  with  fear,  so  much  did 


1793-1795]         NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  281 

Simon  and  the  others  terrify  him.  He  spent  the  day  in 
doing  nothing ;  they  gave  him  no  light ;  this  condition  did 
as  much  harm  to  him  morally  as  it  did  physically.  It  is  not 
surprising  that  he  fell  into  a  fearful  marasmus ;  the  time 
that  his  health  remained  good  and  was  able  to  resist  such 
cruelties  proves  the  strength  of  his  constitution. 

They  "  thee'd  and  thou'd  "  us  much  during  the  winter  ;  we 
despised  all  vexatious  things,  but  this  degree  of  coarseness 
always  made  my  aunt  and  me  blush.  Slie  performed  her 
Lenten  duties  fully,  though  deprived  of  fast-day  food.  She 
took  at  dinner  a  bowl  of  coffee  and  milk  (this  was  her  break- 
fast which  she  kept  over) ;  in  the  evening  she  ate  only  a 
piece  of  bread.  She  ordered  me  to  eat  what  was  brought, 
not  being  old  enough  to  bear  abstinence,  but  as  for  her,  noth- 
ing could  be  more  edifying.  From  the  time  they  refused  her 
the  fast-day  food  she  never,  on  that  account,  neglected  the 
duties  prescribed  by  religion.  When  the  spring  began  they 
took  away  our  tallow  candle  and  we  went  to  bed  when  we 
could  see  no  longer. 

Until  May  9  th  nothing  remarkable  happened.  On  that 
day,  just  as  we  were  going  to  bed  the  bolts  were  withdrawn 
and  some  one  knocked  at  our  door.  My  aunt  replied  that 
she  would  put  on  her  dress ;  they  answered  that  she  must  not 
be  so  long,  and  they  rapped  so  hard  that  we  thought  the  door 
would  burst  in.  She  opened  it  when  she  was  dressed.  They 
said  to  her  :  "  Citoyenne,  you  will  please  come  down."  "  And 
my  niece  ? "  "  We  will  attend  to  her  later."  My  aunt 
kissed  me  and  told  me  to  be  calm  for  she  would  soon  return. 
"  No,  citoyenne,  you  will  not  return,"  they  said  to  her ;  "  take 
your  cap  and  come  down."  They  loaded  her  then  with  in- 
sults and  coarse  speeches ;  she  bore  it  all  with  patience,  took 
her  cap,  kissed  me  again,  and  told  me  to  have  courage  and 
firmness,  to  hope  always  in  God,  to  practise  the  good  princi- 


282  MADAMK    fcLISABKTII    I)K    FRANCE.         [179.1-1795 

j>les  of  religiiin  giveu  me  bj  iiiy  parents,  and  not  to  fail  in 
the  last  instructions  given  to  me  by  my  father  and  by  my 
mother. 

She  went  out ;  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  they  asked  for 
her  pockets ;  there  was  nothing  in  them  ;  this  lasted  a  long 
time  because  the  municipals  had  to  write  a  proch-verbal  for 
the  discharge  of  her  person.  At  last,  after  countless  insults, 
she  went  away  with  the  clerk  of  the  tribunal,  in  a  hackney- 
coach,  and  was  taken  to  the  Conciergerie,  where  she  passed 
the  night.     The  next  day  they  asked  her  three  questions :  — 

"  Your  name  ? "     "  Elisabeth  de  France." 

"  Where  were  you  on  the  10th  of  August  ? "  "  In  the 
chateau  of  the  Tuileries  with  the  king,  my  brother." 

"  Wliat  have  you  done  with  your  diamonds  ? "  "I  do  not 
know.  But  all  these  questions  are  useless ;  you  want  my 
death ;  I  have  made  to  God  the  sacrifice  of  my  life,  and  I  am 
ready  to  die  —  happy  to  rejoin  my  honoured  relatives  whom 
I  loved  so  well  on  earth." 

They  condemned  her  to  death. 

She  made  them  take  her  to  the  room  of  those  who  were  to 
die  with  her ;  she  exhorted  all  with  a  presence  of  mind,  an  ele- 
vation, an  unction  which  strengthened  them.  On  the  cart  she 
showed  the  same  calmness,  encouraging  the  women  who  were 
with  her.  At  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  they  had  the  cruelty 
to  make  her  wait  and  perish  last.  All  the  women  on  getting 
out  of  the  cart  asked  permission  to  kiss  her,  which  she  gave, 
encouraging  each  of  them  with  her  usual  kindness.  Her 
strength  did  not  abandon  her  at  the  last  moment  which  she 
bore  with  a  resignation  full  of  religion.  Her  soul  parted 
from  her  body  to  go  and  enjoy  happiness  in  the  bosom  of  the 
God  she  had  loved. 

Marie-PhQippine-Elisabeth-H^lfene,  sister  of  King  Louis 
XVI.,  died  on  the  10th  of  May  1794,  aged  thirty  years,  hav- 


Feut  D::s'  o^he 


1793-1795]         NAKRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  283 

ing  always  been  a  model  of  virtues.  At  the  age  of  fifteen 
she  gave  herself  to  God  and  thought  only  of  salvation. 
From  1790,  when  I  became  in  a  state  to  appreciate  her  I 
never  saw  anything  in  her  but  religion,  love  of  God,  horror 
of  sin,  gentleness,  piety,  modesty,  and  a  great  attachment  to 
her  family,  for  whom  she  sacrificed  her  life,  being  never  wil- 
ling to  leave  the  king  and  queen.  She  was  a  princess  worthy 
of  the  blood  of  which  she  came.  I  cannot  say  enough  of  the 
goodness  that  she  showed  to  me,  which  ended  only  with  her 
life.  She  considered  me  and  cared  for  me  as  her  daughter, 
and  I,  I  honoured  her  as  a  second  mother  and  vowed  to  her 
all  those  feelings.  It  was  said  that  we  resembled  each  other 
in  face :  I  feel  that  I  have  her  nature  ;  would  that  I  might 
have  all  her  virtues  and  rejoiu  her  some  day,  also  my  father 
and  mother,  in  the  bosom  of  God,  where,  I  doubt  not,  they 
are  now  enjoying  the  reward  of  a  death  so  meritorious. 

I  remained  in  great  desolation  when  I  felt  myself  parted 
from  my  aunt ;  I  did  not  know  what  had  become  of  her,  and 
no  one  would  tell  me.  I  passed  a  very  cruel  night :  and  yet, 
though  I  was  very  uneasy  about  her  fate,  I  was  far  from 
thinking  I  should  lose  her  in  a  few  hours.  Sometimes  I 
persuaded  myself  that  they  would  send  her  out  of  France ; 
then,  when  I  recalled  the  manner  in  which  they  had  taken 
her  away,  my  fears  revived.  The  next  day  I  asked  the  mimi- 
cipals  where  she  was ;  they  said  she  had  gone  to  take  the  air. 
I  renewed  my  request  to  be  taken  to  my  mother,  as  I  was 
parted  from  my  aunt ;  they  replied  that  they  would  speak  of 
it.  They  came  soon  after  and  brought  me  the  key  of  the 
closet  in  which  my  aunt  kept  her  linen ;  I  asked  them  to  send 
some  to  her,  because  she  had  taken  none  with  her ;  they  told 
me  they  could  not  do  so. 

Seeing  that  when  I  asked  the  municipals  to  let  me  go  to 
my  mother,  or  tell  me  news  of  my  aunt  they  always  replied 

19  Mvm.  Ver.  9 


284  MADA.MK  Elisabeth  dk  fuance.      [itiki-itus 

llmt  llioy  would  speak  of  it,  aiul  renu'inbering  thai  my  aunt 
IkuI  alwavs  [old  ino  I  hat  if  I  were  left  alone  my  duty  was  to 
ask  for  a  woman,  1  did  so,  to  obey  her,  but  with  great  repug- 
nance, feeling  sure  they  w'ould  refuse  me,  or  give  me  some 
vile  woman.  Accordingly,  when  I  made  this  request,  the 
municipals  told  me  that  I  needed  no  one.  They  redoubled 
their  severity  and  took  away  from  me  the  knives,  which  had 
been  returned  to  me,  saying :  "  Citoyenne,  tell  us,  how  many- 
knives  have  you  ? "  "  Only  two,  messieurs."  "  Have  you 
none  for  your  toUet,  nor  scissors  ?  "  "  No,  messieurs."  An- 
other time  they  took  away  my  tinder-box,  having  found  the 
stove  warm.  They  said  :  "  May  we  know  why  you  made  that 
fire  ? "  "  To  put  my  feet  in  water."  "  How  did  you  light 
it  ? "  "  With  the  tinder."  "  Who  gave  you  that ?  "  "I  do 
not  know."  "  As  a  precaution  we  shall  take  it  away  for  your 
safety,  for  fear  you  should  fall  asleej)  and  burn  from  that 
fire." 

Searches  and  scenes  like  these  were  frequent,  but  unless  I 
was  positively  questioned  I  never  spoke,  nor  did  I  to  those 
who  brought  my  food.  There  came  a  man  one  day,  whom  I 
think  was  Eobespierre ;  the  municipals  showed  great  respect 
for  him.  His  visit  was  a  secret  to  all  the  persons  in  the 
Tower,  who  either  did  not  know  who  he  was,  or  would  not 
tell  me.  He  looked  at  me  insolently,  cast  his  eyes  over  my 
books,  and  after  searching  the  room  wdth  the  municipals 
went  away.  The  Guards  were  often  drunk;  nevertheless, 
we  were  left  alone  and  tranquil,  my  brother  and  I,  in  our 
separate  apartments,  imtil  the  9th  thermidor. 

My  brother  was  still  wallowing  in  filth ;  no  one  entered 
his  room  except  at  meal  times ;  no  one  had  any  pity  on  that 
unfortunate  child.  There  was  but  one  guard  whose  manners 
were  civil  enough  to  induce  me  to  commend  my  poor  brother 
to  him-     He  dared  to  speak  of  the  harshness  shown  to  the 


1793-1795]         NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROYALE.  285 

cMld,  and  he  was  dismissed  the  next  day.  As  for  me,  I 
asked  for  only  simple  necessaries,  which  were  often  refused 
to  me  harshly ;  but  at  least  I  could  keep  myself  clean,  I  had 
both  soap  and  water.  I  swept  the  room  every  day.  I 
finished  doing  it  by  nine  o'clock  when  the  Guards  brought 
up  my  breakfast.  I  had  no  light,  but  when  the  days  were 
long  I  suffered  less  from  that  privation.  They  would  no 
longer  give  me  books ;  I  had  none  but  those  of  piety  and 
travels  which  I  had  read  a  hundred  times.  I  had  some 
knitting,  but  that  ennuy^d  me  very  much. 

Such  was  our  state  when  the  9th  thermidor  arrived.  I 
heard  the  generale  beaten  and  the  tocsin  rung ;  I  was  very 
uneasy.  The  municipals  in  the  Temple  did  not  stir  out. 
When  they  brought  my  dinner  I  dared  not  ask  what  was 
happening.  At  last,  on  the  10th  thermidor,  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  I  heard  a  frightful  noise  in  the  Temple ;  the 
Guard  cried  to  arms,  the  drums  beat,  the  gates  were  opened 
and  shut.  All  this  uproar  was  occasioned  by  a  visit  from 
members  of  the  National  Assembly,  who  came  to  assure 
themselves  that  all  was  secure.  I  heard  the  bolts  of  my 
brother's  door  drawn  back ;  I  flung  myself  from  my  bed  and 
was  dressed  before  the  members  of  the  Convention  arrived 
in  my  room.  Barras  was  among  them.  They  were  all  in 
full  costume,  which  surprised  me,  not  being  accustomed  to 
see  them  thus,  and  being  always  in  fear  of  something. 
Barras  spoke  to  me,  called  me  by  name,  and  seemed  surprised 
to  find  me  risen.  They  said  to  me  several  things  to  which  I 
made  no  reply.  They  went  away,  and  I  heard  them  harang- 
uing the  Guards  under  the  windows  and  exhorting  them  to 
be  faithful  to  the  National  Convention.  There  were  many 
cries  of  Vive  la  Bepuhlique  !  Vive  la  Convention  I  The  guard 
was  doubled  ;  the  three  municipals  who  were  in  the  Temple 
stayed  there  eight  days.     On  the  evening  of  the  third  day, 


286  MADAMK    /-:L1SAH1:1I1    1)K    FliANCE.  [1793-i:U5 

al  lialf-pjist  nine  o'clock,  I  was  in  my  bed,  having  no  light, 
but  not  asleep,  so  anxious  was  1  about  what  was  happening. 
Thev  knocked  at  my  door  to  show  me  Laurent,  commis- 
sioner from  the  Convention,  appointed  to  guard  my  brother 
and  me.  I  rose ;  they  made  a  long  visit,  showed  everything 
to  Laurent  and  then  went  away. 

The  next  day  at  ten  o'clock  Lam-ent  entered  my  room  ;  he 
asked  me  politely  if  I  wanted  anything.  lie  came  daily 
three  times  to  see  me,  always  with  civility,  and  did  not  "  thee 
and  thou  "  me.  He  never  searched  my  bureaus  and  closets. 
At  the  end  of  another  three  days  the  Convention  sent  a 
deputation  to  report  upon  my  brother's  state;  these  men 
had  pity  upon  him  and  ordered  that  he  should  be  better 
treated-  Laurent  took  down  a  bed  which  was  in  my  room, 
because  the  one  he  had  was  full  of  bugs ;  he  made  him 
take  baths,  and  removed  the  vermin  with  which  he  was 
covered.  Nevertheless,  they  still  left  him  alone  in  his 
room. 

I  soon  asked  Laurent  about  that  which  concerned  me  so 
keenly ;  I  mean  news  of  my  relations,  of  whose  death  I  was 
ignorant,  and  I  begged  to  be  reunited  with  my  mother.  He 
answered  me  with  a  very  pained  air  that  the  matter  did  not 
concern  him. 

The  next  day  came  men  in  scarfs  to  whom  I  made  the 
same  appeal.  They  also  answered  that  the  matter  did  not 
concern  them,  and  said  they  did  not  see  why  I  wanted  to 
leave  that  place,  where  I  seemed  to  be  very  comfortable. 
"  It  is  dreadful,"  I  said,  "  to  be  parted  from  one's  mother  for 
over  a  year  without  knowing  anything  about  her,  and  also 
one's  aunt."  "  You  are  not  ill  ? "  "  No,  monsieur,  but  the 
cruellest  illness  is  that  of  the  heart."  "  I  tell  you  that  we 
can  do  nothing ;  I  advise  you  to  have  patience,  and  to  hope 
in   the   justice   and   goodness   of   Frenchmen."     I   said   no 


1793-1795]         NARRATIVE   OF  MADAME   ROY  ALE.  287 

more.  I  was  alarmed  the  next  day  by  the  explosion  at 
Grenelle,  which  gave  me  a  great  fright. 

During  all  this  time  my  brother  was  still  left  alone. 
Laurent  went  to  him  three  times  a  day,  but,  fearing  to  com- 
promise himself  as  he  was  watched,  he  dared  not  do  more. 
He  took  much  care  of  me ;  and  I  had  only  to  congratulate 
myself  on  his  manners  all  the  time  he  was  on  service.  He 
often  asked  me  if  I  needed  nothing,  and  begged  me  to  tell 
him  what  I  wished  and  to  ring  if  I  wanted  anything.  He 
gave  me  back  my  match-box  and  candle. 

Towards  the  end  of  October,  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
I  was  sleeping  when  they  knocked  at  my  door;  I  rose  in 
haste,  and,  opened  it,  trembling  with  fear.  I  saw  two  men 
of  the  committee  with  Laurent ;  they  looked  at  me,  and 
went  away  without  speaking. 

At  the  beginning  of  November  came  the  civil  commis- 
sioners ;  that  is  to  say,  one  man  from  each  section,  who 
passed  twenty-four  hours  in  the  Temple  to  verify  the  exist- 
ence of  my  brother.  During  the  first  days  of  this  month 
another  commissioner,  named  Gomier,  anived  to  be  with 
Laurent.  He  took  extreme  care  of  my  brother.  For  a  long 
time  that  unhappy  child  had  been  left  without  lights ;  he 
was  dying  of  fear.  Gomier  obtained  permission  that  he 
might  have  them  ;  he  even  passed  several  hours  with  him 
daily  to  amuse  him.  He  soon  perceived  that  my  brother's 
knees  and  wrists  were  swelled ;  he  feared  he  was  growing 
rickety ;  he  spoke  to  the  committee  and  asked  that  the 
child  might  be  taken  to  the  garden  for  exercise.  He  first 
made  him  come  down  from  his  room  into  the  little  salon, 
which  pleased  my  brother  much  because  he  liked  a  change 
of  place.  He  soon  perceived  Gomier's  attentions,  was  touched 
by  them,  and  attached  himself  to  him.  The  unhappy  child 
bad  long  been  accustomed  to   none   but  the   worst   treat- 


'J,>^S;  MA  DA  mi:    KUSARETII    DE    FRANCE.  [I7'.n-179r. 

monl  —  fur    1    bolievo    that    no   researchos  can    show   such 
barbarity  to  any  other  cliihl. 

On  the  19th  of  Decenibor  the  committee-general  came  to 
the  Temple  in  consequence  of  his  illness.  This  deputation 
also  came  to  me,  but  said  nothing.  The  winter  passed 
tran(piilly  enough.  I  was  satisfied  with  tlie  kindness  of 
my  jailers ;  they  made  my  fire  and  gave  me  all  the  wood  I 
needed,  which  pleased  me.  Also  they  brought  me  the 
books  I  asked  for ;  Laurent  had  already  procured  me  some. 
My  greatest  unhappiness  was  that  I  could  not  obtain  from 
them  any  news  of  my  mother  and  aunt ;  I  dared  not  ask 
about  my  uncles  and  my  great-aunts,  but  I  thought  of  them 
incessantly. 

During  the  winter  my  brother  had  several  attacks  of 
fever ;  he  was  always  beside  the  fire.  Laurent  and  Gomier 
induced  him  to  go  up  on  the  Tower  and  get  the  air ;  but  he 
was  no  sooner  there  than  he  wanted  to  come  down ;  he 
would  not  walk,  still  less  would  he  go  upstairs.  His  illness 
increased,  and  his  knees  swelled  much.  Laurent  went  away, 
and  in  his  place  they  put  Lasne,  a  worthy  man,  who,  with 
Gomier,  took  the  greatest  care  of  my  brother. 

At  the  opening  of  the  spring  they  wanted  me  to  go  up  on 
the  Tower,  which  I  did.  My  brother's  illness  grew  worse 
and  worse  daily ;  his  strength  diminished ;  even  his  mind 
showed  the  effects  of  the  harshness  so  long  exercised 
towards  him,  and  it  gradually  weakened.  The  Committee  of 
Public  Safety  sent  ,Dr.  Desault  to  take  care  of  him ;  he  un- 
dertook to  cure  him,  though  he  admitted  that  his  illness  was 
very  dangerous.  Desault  died,  and  they  sent  as  his  succes- 
sors Duniangin  and  the  surgeon  Pelletan.  They  saw  no 
hope.  They  made  him  take  medicines,  which  he  swallowed 
with  difficulty.  Happily,  his  malady  did  not  make  him 
sufTer   much;   it   was   debility   and   a   total  wasting  away 


1793-1795]         NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROY  ALE.  289 

rather  than  acute  pain.  He  had  several  distressmg  crises ; 
fever  seized  him,  his  strength  lessened  daily,  and  he  expired 
without  a  struggle. 

Thus  died,  June  9,  1795,  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  Louis 
XVII.,  aged  ten  years  and  two  months.  The  commissioners 
mourned  him  bitterly,  so  much  had  he  made  them  love  him 
for  his  gentle  qualities.  He  had  much  intelligence ;  but 
imprisonment  and  the  hoiTors  of  which  he  was  the  victim 
had  changed  him  much ;  and  even,  had  he  lived,  it  is 
to  be  feared  that  his  mental  faculties  would  have  been 
affected. 

I  do  not  think  that  he  was  poisoned,  as  was  said,  and  is 
still  said :  that  is  false,  from  the  testimony  of  the  physicians 
who  opened  his  body.  The  drugs  he  had  taken  in  his  last 
illness  were  analyzed  and  found  to  be  safe.  The  only  poison 
that  shortened  his  life  was  uncleanness,  joined  to  the  hor- 
rible treatment,  the  unexampled  harshness  and  cruelty 
exercised  upon  him. 

Such  were  the  lives  and  the  end  of  my  virtuous  family 
during  their  imprisonment  in  the  Temple  and  elsewhere. 
Written  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple. 

[Marie-Th6rfese  de  France  was  exchanged  in  October,  1795, 
for  the  four  commissioners  of  the  Convention  delivered  up 
to  Austria  by  Dumouriez  in  April,  1793.  She  left  the  Tower 
of  the  Temple  during  the  night  of  December  18,  1795. 
That  tragic  building,  —  about  which  Marie-Antoinette  ex- 
claimed on  hearing  where  she  and  her  family  were  about  to 
be  imprisoned :  "  How  often  I  begged  the  Comte  d'Artois  to 
have  that  vile  Tower  of  the  Temple  demolished !  it  was  always 
a  horror  to  me,"  —  that  monument  to  anguish  was  razed 
to  the  ground  by  order  of  Napoleon  in  1811.  Until  then 
could  be  read,  scratched  upon  the  wall  of  the  room  where 


290  MADAMK   r.MSABKTM    DK    KUANCK.  [17;).)-l79s 

ihe  child,  M;u  ii'-Tlu^i"tse,  lived  iier  solitary  life,  these  iiiteous 
wonls :  — 

"  Marie-Ther6se  is  the  most  miliappy  creature  in  the 
world.  She  can  (tbtain  no  news  of  lier  mother;  nor  l)e 
reunited  to  her,  though  she  has  asked  it  a  thousand 
times." 

"  Live,  my  good  mother !  w^hom  I  love  well,  but  of  whom 
I  can  hear  no  tidings." 

"  O  my  father !  watch  over  me  from  heaven  above." 

"  0  my  Grod !  forgive  those  who  have  made  my  family 
die." 

She  went  from  the  Temple  to  Vienna,  where  she  lived, 
against  her  will,  three  years  and  a  half,  resisting  all 
attempts  to  make  her  marry  the  Archduke  Charles  of 
Austria.  At  last,  in  1799,  she  was  allowed  to  go  to  her 
uncle  the  Comte  de  Provence  (Louis  XVIII.)  at  Mittau  in 
Courlande,  where  she  soon  after  married  her  cousin  the 
Due  d'Angouleme,  son  of  the  Comte  d'Artois  (Charles  X.). 
Driven  from  Courlande  with  Louis  XVIIL  by  the  Emperor 
Paul,  she  followed  her  uncle  through  all  his  exiles  to 
Memel,  Konigsberg,  Warsaw,  again  to  Mittau,  thence  to 
Godsfield  Hall  and  Hartwell  in  England.  "She  is  the 
consoling  angel  of  our  master,"  wrote  the  Comte  dAvaray, 
"and  a  model  of  courage  for  us." 

The  portrait  of  her  in  this  volume  was  painted  by  Dan- 
loux  during  the  first  months  of  her  life  in  Vienna,  when 
she  was  seventeen  years  of  age.  Its  sorrowful  expression 
deepened  upon  her  face  as  the  years  went  by  until  at  last 
she  became  an  ideal  of  Sorrow,  and  the  courtiers  of  the 
Restoration  reproached  her  for  her  sadness  and  turned  from 
her!  But  her  courage  remained.  She  was  absent  from 
the  side  of  Louis  XVIIL  when  the  first  Restoration  fell, 
but  she  made  a  gaUant  struggle  to  uphold  the  royal  cause 


1793-1795]         NARRATIVE   OF   MADAME   ROYALE.  291 

at  Bordeaux  where  she  then  was.  It  was  that  struggle 
which  led  Napoleon  to  say  of  her  that  she  was  the  only- 
man  of  her  family. 

Later,  she  was  at  Vichy  in  1830,  when  Charles  X.  signed 
the  ordinances  which  cost  him  his  throne.  From  that  day 
until  her  death,  a  period  of  twenty-one  years,  she  lived  in 
exile,  at  Holyrood,  Prague,  Goritz,  and  Frohsdorf.  Her  hus- 
band's nephew,  the  Comte  de  Chambord,  in  whose  behalf 
Charles  X.  and  the  Due  d'Angouleme  abdicated,  regarded 
her  as  a  second  mother,  and  she  had  a  stronger  influence 
over  him  than  his  own  mother,  the  Duchesse  de  Berry.  The 
last  glimpse  we  have  of  her  is  at  Frohsdorf  in  1851,  the  year 
of  her  death,  when  the  Comte  de  Falloux  thus  describes 
her:  — 

"  Madame  la  Dauphine  was,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  pathos 
in  person.  Sadness  was  imprinted  on  her  features  and  re- 
vealed in  her  attitude ;  but,  in  the  same  degree,  there  shone 
about  her  an  unalterable  resignation,  an  unalterable  gentle- 
ness. Even  when  the  tones  of  her  voice  were  brusque, 
which  often  happened,  the  kindness  of  her  intention  re- 
mained transparent.  She  liked  to  pass  in  review  the  French- 
men she  had  known ;  she  kept  herself  closely  informed 
about  their  family  events ;  she  remembered  the  slightest 
details  with  rare  fidelity :  '  How  Madame  loves  France ! ' 
I  said  to  her  one  day.  '  That  is  not  surprising,'  she  replied. 
'  I  take  it  from  my  parents.'  At  Frohsdorf  she  was  seated 
nearly  the  whole  day  in  the  embrasure  of  a  certain  window. 
She  had  chosen  this  window  because  of  its  outlook  on  copses 
which  reminded  her  a  little  of  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries ; 
and  if  a  visitor  wished  to  be  agreeable  to  her,  he  remarked 
upon  this  resemblance." 

She  died  at  Frohsdorf  on  the  18th  of  October,  1851,  in  the 
seventy-third  year  of  her  age,  and  the  twenty-first  year  of 


•J«)-J  MADAMK    fCLLSABETIl    DE    l-RANCi:.  [17'.)3-1795 

luT  husi  exik\  She  was  buried  at  Gorit/,  in  tlie  c'liaj)el  of 
the  Fraueisciius,  between  Charles  X.  and  her  husband,  the 
Duo  d'Angouleme.  On  lier  tombstone  are  carved  these 
words  :  0  rt)s  omncs  qui  traiisitis  j^cr  viam,  attendite  et  videte 
si  est  dolor  sicut  dolor  nuns.] 


THE  DUCHESSE  D'ANGOUL^ME. 

Bt  C.-A,  Sainte-Becve. 


THE  DUCHESSE  D'ANGOULEME. 

By  C.-A.  Sainte-Beuve. 

November  C,  1851. 

In  coming  rather  late  and  after  all  the  other  organs  of 
publicity  to  render  homage  to  a  lofty  virtue  and  a  vast 
misfortune,  I  can  only  repeat,  more  or  less,  what  has 
already  been  said  and  felt  by  all.  There  is  one  point  of 
view,  however,  —  if  such  an  expression  is  permissible  in 
presence  of  a  figure  so  simple  and  true,  so  alien  to  all 
pompous  attitude, — there  is  one  point  of  view  which  we 
will  here  take  especially  for  ours. 

All  suffers  change ;  all  dies  or  renews  itself ;  the  oldest 
and  the  most  revered  races  have  their  end;  nations  them- 
selves before  they  fall  and  end  have  their  several  ways  of 
being  successive,  they  take  on  divers  forms  of  government 
in  their  diverse  epochs;  what  was  religion  and  fidelity  in 
one  age  is  only  a  monument  and  commemoration  of  the 
past  in  another;  but  through  all  (so  long  as  vitiation  does 
not  come)  something  remains,  namely :  human  nature  and 
the  natural  sentiments  that  distinguish  it,  respect  for  vir- 
tue, for  misfortune,  especially  if  undeserved  and  innocent,  and 
pity,  which  itself  is  piety  towards  God  in  so  far  as  it  turns 
towards  human  sorrow. 

In  speaking  of  Madame  la  Duchesse  d'Angoul§me  it  is  to 
all  those  sentiments,  apart  from  politics,  that  I  address  my- 
self, —  to  the  sensitive  and  durable  side  of  our  being. 

The  feature  that  stands  out  in  this  long  life  of  suffering, 
of  martyrdom  in  her  early  years  and  always  of  convulsion 


290  MADA.MK    f-.LISABKTII    DK    lliANCK.  [1778-1851 

ami  vicissitudes,  is  pcrfoct  truth,  perfect  simplicity,  and,  it 
may  ho  said,  entire  and  unalterable  consistency,  'lliat  up- 
right soul,  just  and  noble,  was  early  fixed  and  established, 
and  at  no  moment  later  did  it  vacillate.  It  was  fixed  during 
the  very  years  that  are  for  youth  the  age  of  lightsomeness, 
of  joy,  of  budding  bloom,  during  those  three  years  and  four 
months  of  captivity  in  the  Tower  of  the  Temple  when  she 
saw  die,  one  after  another,  her  father,  her  mother,  her 
aunt,  her  brother.  She  entered  that  place  before  she  was 
fourteen  years  old,  she  left  it  the  day  she  was  seventeen.  At 
that  age  she  had  not  acquired  the  marked  and  rather  strong 
features  by  which  we  have  known  her.  The  portrait  we  have 
of  her  soon  after  this  period  in  the  Temple,  with  the  hair 
negligently  knotted,  has  delicacy  in  its  outline,  and  noble- 
ness and  gra\ity  without  excess.  Misfortune,  while  weighing 
upon  that  forehead,  has  not  yet  drawn  there  the  furrow  which 
appeared  a  few  years  later  and  gave  her,  as  she  grew  older, 
more  and  more  resemblance  to  Louis  XVI. 

But  at  the  close  of  this  year,  1795,  though  the  outward 
presence  still  retained  much  of  its  early  youth,  the  soul  was 
mature,  it  was  formed  and  disciplined.  In  its  depths  that 
strong  and  healthy  organization  had  been  attacked.  The 
liver  suffered  and  was  injured.  This  tender  young  slip  of  a 
long  and  illustrious  race  was  blighted,  perhaps  withered  even 
in  its  future  shoots.  If  we  may  dare  to  form  an  idea  of 
these  mysteries  of  sorrow,  it  seems  to  me  that  on  leaving  the 
Temple  both  the  life  and  the  soul  of  Madame  Eoyale  were 
finished,  completed  in  all  essential  things ;  they  were  closed 
to  the  future ;  all  their  sources,  all  their  roots  w^ere  hence- 
forth in  the  past.  Our  heart,  let  it  have  had  but  one  day  in 
life,  fixes  or  recalls  the  emotions  of  a  certain  hour  that  we 
hear  strike  for  us  whenever  we  re-enter  our  inner  selves 
and  dream  there.     The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  who  never 


1778-1851]  THE   DUCHESSE   D'ANGOULEME.  297 

dreamed  but  who  prayed,  when  she  retreated  within  herself 
(though  she  did  not  retreat,  for  she  lived  there),  heard  that 
hour  strike  on  the  clock  of  the  Temple  for  the  death-knell 
of  her  parents. 

She  has  related  the  history  of  her  captivity  and  the  events 
happening  in  the  Temple  from  the  day  she  entered  there 
until  the  day  of  her  brother's  death,  and  she  has  done  it  in 
a  simple,  correct,  concise  style,  without  one  word  too  much, 
without  one  wrought-up  phrase,  as  became  an  upright  mind 
and  a  deep  heart  speaking  in  all  sincerity  of  true  sorrows, 
sorrows  truly  ineffable,  which  surpassed  all  that  words  could 
tell.  She  forgets  herself  as  much  as  she  can,  and  she  stops 
her  narrative  at  the  death  of  her  brother,  —  the  last  of  the  four 
immolated  victims.  Let  us  say  more  of  her  here  than  she 
has  said  of  herself. 

Marie-Th^rfese-Charlotte  de  France,  born  December  19, 
1778,  was  the  first  child  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Queen  Marie- 
Antoinette.  Seven  years  had  elapsed  since  the  queen's  mar- 
riage, when  she  one  day  informed  the  persons  in  her  private 
circle  of  her  first  joy  as  a  wife  and  her  future  hopes.  About 
one  year  later  she  gave  birth  to  Madame  Eoyale.  Although 
until  then  Louis  XVI.'s  timidity  towards  his  young  wife  had 
been  extreme,  his  passion  from  that  moment  was  not  less  so, 
and  this  child,  the  first  fruits  of  it,  was  to  a  great  degree  his 
image.  Kindness,  integrity,  all  the  solid  and  virtuous  quali- 
ties of  her  father  were  transmitted  straight  to  Madame's 
heart,  and  Marie -Antoinette,  with  all  her  grace,  could  not 
hinder  a  little  of  that  roughness  of  gesture  and  accent  which 
covered  the  virtues  of  Louis  XVI.  from  slipping  into  the 
wholly  frank  nature  of  his  child.  Also,  she  forgot  to  trans- 
mit to  her  that  which  women  have  so  readily  —  a  desire  to 
please  and  the  dawning  charm  of  coquetry,  even  the  most 
innocent  and  permissible.     Of  that,  Madame  Royale  had  no 


'J98  MADA.Mi:    flMSABETH    DK    FKANCK.  [1778-1851 

iilea,  ami  no  (•i>iu'i'i>iion.  Or  if,  in  the  beginuing,  some  trifle 
o[  it  niingli'il  in  hvv  Mood,  that  little  disappeared  completely 
iu  the  trials  of  a  I'hildhood  and  a  youth  so  oppressed,  so 
desolate,  lu  order  to  comprehend  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme, 
we  must  never  cease  to  remember  that  all  that  calls  itself 
springtide  joy  and  bloom,  that  joyous  and  bewitching  as- 
])ect  muler  which,  on  entering  life,  we  so  naturally  see  all 
tilings,  was  suppressed  and  early  blighted  in  her.  Her  soul, 
scarcely  in  its  first  dawn,  was  suddenly  reduced  and  worn,  as 
it  were,  to  its  woof,  —  but  a  solid  indestructible  woof,  which 
resisted  and  grew  stronger  under  all  assaults,  fortifying  itself 
by  tears,  by  prayers,  but  casting  far  away  from  it,  as  if  it 
were  the  equal  of  a  lie,  all  that  might  have  been  grace  and 
ornament.  In  truth,  for  her  who  had  wept  true  tears,  and 
never  ceased  to  weep  them,  it  would  have  been  a  lie. 

Though  she  seems  iu  her  nature  to  have  derived  from  her 
father  more  than  from  her  mother,  there  is  one  virtue  at  least 
that  she  held  through  the  latter,  which  was  lacking  in  that 
poor  Louis  XVI.  to  save  him  :  I  mean  firmness,  the  courage 
to  act  in  decisive  moments.  In  her  august  and  modest  life, 
in  general  so  aloof  from  political  questions,  the  Duchesse 
d'Angouleme  found,  once  at  least  at  Bordeaux,  an  opportunity 
to  show  that  she  had  in  her  that  courage  of  action  which 
came  to  her  from  her  mother  and  from  her  grandmother, 
Maria  Theresa.  And  again,  in  1830,  when  she  rejoined  the 
royal  family  at  Eambouillet  (after  the  faults  were  committed), 
her  first  impulsion  was,  as  in  1815  at  Bordeaux,  to  resist  and 
fight. 

She  was  not  eleven  years  old  when,  with  the  terrible  days 
of  October,  1789,  her  public  role  beside  her  mother  began. 
She  was  made  to  appear  on  a  balcony  and  retire  from  it  at 
the  bidding  of  a  furious  populace ;  and  in  that  flux  and  reflux 
of  the  popular  storm,  of  which  she  strove  to  divine  the  mean- 


1778-1851]  THE  DUCHESSE  D'ANGOULEME.  299 

ing,  she  felt  but  one  thing,  —  the  clasp  of  her  mother's  hand, 
which  pressed  her  against  herself  with  the  chill  of  death. 

At  that  time,  in  the  confines  of  the  Tuileries  to  which  the 
royal  family  was  restricted,  she  received  from  her  mother, 
now  becoming  more  and  more  grave,  from  her  noble  Aunt 
Elisabeth,  and  from  her  father,  the  lessons  of  a  practical  and 
solid  instruction  and  examples  of  an  unalterable  domestic 
religion.  She  was  brought-up  within  that  domesticity  like  a 
child  of  the  most  united  and  purest  of  noble  families,  but 
with  mortal  terrors  added,  and  with  agonies  by  day  and  night. 
It  was  in  that  long  series  of  terrors,  enigmas,  and  painful 
nightmares  that  the  years  and  the  dreams  of  girlhood,  usually 
so  lightsome,  were  passed. 

On  entering  the  Temple,  there  was  no  more  enigma,  the 
veil  was  rent  away  completely.  Henceforth  the  world  to  hei 
was  sharply  divided  in  two  —  the  good  and  the  wicked :  the 
wicked,  that  is  to  say,  all  that  human  imagination  in  times 
of  peace  and  social  regularity  scarcely  dares  to  present 
nakedly  to  itself,  —  brutality  in  all  its  coarseness  and  degra-- 
dation,  vice  and  envy  in  all  the  ignoble  drunkenness  of  their 
triumph;  the  good,  that  is  to  say,  a  few  touched,  pitying, 
timid  souls,  softening  the  evil  secretly  and  concealing  their 
deed. 

That  the  young  heart  of  Madame  Eoyale  did  not  take 
from  that  hour  an  undying  hatred,  a  contempt  unchangeable; 
for  the  human  race,  that  she  preserved  her  purity  of  sou], 
her  faith,  her  trust  in  good,  was  owing  to  the  divine  examples 
and  the  help  she  had  around  her,  especially  in  her  Aunt 
Elisabeth,  that  celestial  person;  it  was  owing  to  religion, 
clearly  defined  and  practical,  at  which  no  questioning  mind 
can  ever  have  the  right  to  smile,  because  it  alone  has  the 
power  to  sustain  and  to  console  under  such  sorrows.  One 
day  CApril  20,  1793)  tlie  wretch  Hubert  with  other  munici- 

20  Meui.  Ver.  !) 


300  MADAMK    f:LISAnKTH    DE    FRANCE.         [1778-1851 

juils  came  lo  ihc  Tower  at  ten  at  ni^ht,  after  the  prisoners  hail 
pine  to  beil.  "  We  rose  hastily,"  says  Madame  Koyale.  .  .  . 
••  Mv  |u)(ir  brother  was  asleep;  they  pulled  him  roughly  from 
liis  bed  to  search  it.  .  .  .  They  took  from  my  mother  the 
address  of  a  shop,  from  my  Aunt  filisabeth  a  stick  of  sealing- 
wax,  and  from  me  a  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus  and  a  Prayer  for 
France." 

That  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus  and  that  Prayer  for  France 
were  closer  bound  together  than  would  seem  at  first;  and 
j)erhaps  she  needed  all  her  faith  in  the  one  to  be  able  at  that 
moment  to  pray  for  the  other. 

It  has  sometimes  been  said  that  the  Duchesse  d'An- 
gouleme  felt  a  rancour  against  France,  and  that  when  she 
returned  in  1814,  and  again  in  1815,  she  showed  that  feeling 
involuntarily  in  several  of  her  remarks ;  as  for  acts,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  find  any  for  which  to  blame  her.  But  the 
persons  who  knew  her  best,  and  who  are  most  worthy  of 
belief,  declare  that  all  such  feelings  were  very  far  from  being 
hers.  She  was  frank  and  sincere ;  she  w^as  even  a  little 
harsh  and  brusque  in  manner,  like  her  father.  Incapable 
of  an  evil  thought,  but  also  of  an  insincerity,  if  she  did  not 
like  you  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  say  to  you  or  let  you 
think  the  contrarj^  "She  was  a  most  loyal  gentleman," 
some  one  said  of  her  to  me,  "  who  was  never  false."  She 
loved  her  friends,  she  forgave  her  enemies;  but  if,  in  the 
religion  of  her  race  and  her  misfortunes,  she  believed  there 
were  faithful  and  unfaithful,  good  men  and  wicked  men,  can 
we  wonder  ? 

The  narrative  she  has  given  of  the  events  of  the  Temple 
was  written  in  it,  during  the  last  months  of  her  imprison- 
ment, when  there  was  some  relaxation  of  extreme  severity. 
In  this  precise,  methodical,  sensible,  and  touching  narrative 
Madame  d  'Angouleme  gives  the  measure  of  her  precocious 


1778-1851]  THE  DUCHESSE  D'ANGOULEME.  .        301 

reason,  and  of  her  good  judgment  in  things  of  the  soul.  She 
shows  herself  greatly  struck  by  the  dignity  of  her  mother, 
who,  to  the  speeches  of  various  kinds  addressed  to  the  noble 
captives,  answered  oftenest  by  silence.  "  My  mother,  as 
usual,  said  nothing,"  writes  Madame,  in  regard  to  an  insult- 
ing piece  of  news  announced  to  them,  which  the  queen  had 
the  air  of  not  hearing ;  often  her  contemptuous  calmness  and 
her  dignified  bearing  awed  those  men ;  it  was  rarely  to  her 
that  they  addressed  themselves. 

It  was  not  until  the  first  day  of  Louis  XVI.'s  trial,  when 
she  saw  him  taken  away  to  be  interrogated  at  the  bar  of  the 
Convention,  —  it  was  not  until  that  day  that  Marie-Antoinette 
succumbed  to  her  anxiety  and  broke  her  noble  silence  :  "  My 
mother  tried  in  every  way  to  learn  what  was  happening  from 
the  municipals  who  guarded  her ;  it  was  the  first  time  she 
had  deigned  to  question  them." 

In  this  simple  narrative,  which  no  one  can  read  without 
tears,  there  are  touches  that  make  a  profound  impression,  of 
which  the  pen  that  wrote  them  had  no  suspicion,  Madame 
has  had  a  trouble  in  her  foot  (chilblains,  as  a  result  of  the 
cold),  complicated  with  some  internal  illness.  During  this 
time  Louis  XVI.  is  condemned.  His  family,  who  hoped  to  see 
him  once  more,  to  embrace  him  on  the  morning  of  his  death, 
is  left  in  a  desolation  we  can  well  conceive. 

"  Nothing,"  writes  Madame, "  was  able  to  calm  my  mother's 
anguish  ;  we  could  make  no  hope  of  any  sort  enter  her  heart ; 
she  was  indifferent  whether  she  lived  or  died.  She  looked 
at  us  sometimes  with  a  pity  that  made  us  shudder.  Hap- 
pily, grief  increased  my  illness  and  that  occupied  her." 

Happily  !  —  that  word  slipping  unconsciously  into  this 
picture  of  sorrow  has  an  effect  that  no  word  of  Bossuet's 
could  equal. 

It  was  in  reflecting  on  these  dolorous  scenes  of  the  Temple 


302  MADAMK    f:LlSABETlI   DK   FRANCE.         (I77s-]85l 

that  M.  dc  C'liatoaubrianil  (not  t(^  confmind  liim,  liowevcr, 
as  soinr  ioo  «ift(Mi  do.  witli  Bossuet)  said  iu  "  Atala:"  "The 
dweller  in  a  cabin,  and  those  in  palaces,  all  suffer,  and  all 
moan  here  below  ;  ([ueens  have  been  seen  to  weep  like  simple 
women,  anil  men  wonder  at  the  (]uantity  of  tears  that  flow 
from  the  eyes  of  kings." 

A  popular  poet  alluding  to  that  celebrated  passage,  but 
continumg  to  keep  in  opposition  the  classes,  writes :  — 

•'  In  the  eye  of  a  king  the  tears  can  be  reckoned. 

The  eyes  of  the  people  are  too  full  of  tears  for  that." 

The  sense  of  opposition  of  that  kind  will  never  come,  I 
am  very  certain,  to  whoso  reads  the  simple,  Christian,  human 
narrative  of  Madame  lioyale  in  the  Temple.  All  spirit  of 
party  disarms  itself  and  dies  as  we  read  it ;  there  is  room  for 
nothing  but  compassion  and  the  deepest  admiration.  Gentle- 
ness, piety,  and  virgin  modesty  inspire  these  pages  of  the 
shocked  and  insulted  3'oung  girl.  She  spent  alone  with  her 
Aunt  ^filisabeth  the  winter  of  93-94.  "  They  tutoyed  us  mucli 
during  the  winter,"  she  says.  "  We  despised  all  vexations, 
but  this  last  coarseness  always  made  my  aunt  and  me  blush." 

The  most  cruel  moment  for  her  was  that  when,  after  the 
death  of  her  father,  after  the  disappearance  of  her  mother 
and  her  aunt,  ignorant  of  the  actual  fate  of  those  dear  heads, 
she  heard  in  the  distance,  during  the  weeks  that  preceded 
the  9th  thermidor,  the  voice  of  her  brother,  already  a  prey 
to  the  corrupters,  singing  the  atrocious  songs  taught  him  by 
Simon,  the  shoemaker. 

"  As  for  me,"  she  says, "  I  only  asked  for  simple  necessaries ; 
often  they  were  refused  to  me  harshly.  But  at  least  I  could 
keep  myself  clean ;  I  had  soap  and  water ;  I  swept  my  room 
dally,  and  I  finished  by  nine  o'clock  when  the  guard  brought 
my  breakfast.     I  had  no  light,  but  during  the  long  days  I 


1778-1851]  THE  DUCHESSE   D'ANGOULfiME.  303 

suffered  less  from  that  privation.  They  would  not  give  me 
books,  I  had  only  some  of  piety  and  travels  which  I  had  read 
a  hundred  times." 

At  last  the  Convention,  after  the  9  th  thermidor,  softened  in 
severity ;  public  opinion  made  itself  heard,  and  pity  dared  to 
murmur.  One  of  the  commissioners,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
visit  the  young  princess  in  the  Temple,  has  left  a  representa- 
tion of  her  in  her  seemly  attitude,  suffering  and  poverty- 
stricken,  seated  by  the  window  knitting,  and  far  from  the  fire 
(there  was  not  light  enough  for  her  work  near  the  chimney), 
her  hands  swollen  with  cold  aud  covered  with  chilblains,  for 
they  did  not  give  her  wood  enough  to  warm  the  room  at  any 
distance.  This  was  the  first  time  attention  was  shown  to 
her  or  any  desire  to  soften  her  fate.  Her  first  impulse  was 
to  be  incredulous,  silent,  and  to  refuse  all  offers.  To  a  ques- 
tion which  the  commissioners  put  to  her  as  to  her  books, 
which  consisted  of  the  "  Imitation  of  Jesus  Christ "  and  a 
few  other  books  of  devotion,  saying  that  they  were  scarcely 
sufficient  to  amuse  her,  "  Those  books,  monsieur,"  she  re- 
plied, "  are  precisely  the  ones  that  suit  my  situation." 

The  period  which  came  between  the  9th  thermidor,  July 
27,  1794,  and  the  deliverance  of  the  princess  in  the  last  days 
of  1795,  was  that  in  which  a  whole  royalist  literature  at- 
tempted to  burst  forth  around  her.  Sentimental  songs  were 
made  and  sung  to  her  from  a  distance,  the  echoes  of  which 
told  her  that  henceforth  friends  were  watching  over  her  fate. 
Odes  were  written  on  the  goat  and  the  dog  she  was  allowed 
at  the  very  last  to  have,  and  which,  from  neighbouring  win- 
dows, were  seen  with  her  in  the  garden.  The  Duchesse 
d'Angouleme  has  been,  or  rather  could  have  been,  the  centre 
of  a  whole  contemporaneous  literature,  of  which  we  can  fol- 
low the  trace,  from  the  song  of  M.  Lepitre,  sung  beneath  the 
walls  of  the  Temple,  and  the  novel  of  "  Irma,  or  the  Sorrows 


:'A)\  MADAMK    ftMSARKTlI    DK   FRANCE.  [1778-1851 

vi  i\  Young  Orphan"  (published  by  Mme.  Gudnard  in  the 
year  VIII.),  to  the  "  Antigone "  of  Ballauche,  which  more 
nobly  crowned  that  allegorical  and  mythological  literature  in 
IS  15.  But  one  distinctive  trait  in  her  was  to  remain  com- 
pK'tely  aloof  from  this  rather  tardy  invasion  of  public  senti- 
mentality. It  is  to  her  lionour  tliat  she  never,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  suffered  literature,  romance,  drama,  to  enter  the 
sanctuary,  veiled  forever,  of  her  sorrow.  "  I  do  not  like 
scenes,"  she  said  one  day,  a  little  brusquely,  to  a  woman  who 
threw  herself  on  her  knees  before  her  to  thank  her  for  some 
benefit. 

Scenes !  she  had  seen  too  many  scenes,  too  awfully  real, 
to  endure  the  mere  image  of  them.  The  deep  sincerity  of 
her  mourning  and  of  her  filial  affection  had  in  this  direction 
the  same  effect  we  should  expect  of  the  most  enlightened 
and  severe  good  taste.  All  this  literature,  more  or  less  over- 
pitched,  and  in  the  style  of  Mme.  Cottin,  which  accumulated 
round  the  youth  of  Madame  Eoyale,  evidently  never  touched 
her ;  and  the  Narrative  she  wrote  in  1795  of  the  events  of 
the  Temple  will  be  the  touchstone  by  which  to  judge  of  all 
these  other  narratives  and  false  descriptions,  could  they  even 
be  brought  into  comparison.  She  proved  her  great  good 
sense  in  her  utmost  sorrow. 

When  she  leaves  France,  in  Vienna,  at  Mittau,  where  they 
marry  her  to  her  cousin,  everywhere,  in  the  diverse  exiles 
where  fortune  tosses  her,  she  is  still  the  same ;  the  life  of 
the  Temple  is  there,  like  a  background  to  her  oratory,  domi- 
nating each  day  and  dictating  to  her  the  employment  of  it. 
Submissive  to  her  uncle,  in  whom  she  sees  both  a  king  and  a 
father,  she  thinks  only  of  reuniting  all  her  faiths,  all  her 
religions,  and  of  practising  them  faithfully. 

A  most  touching  scene  in  her  life  is  well  related  by  one  of 
her  biographers  (M.  Nettement) ;  it  occurred  at  Mittau  in 


1778-1851]  THE   DUCHESSE   D'ANGOUL^ME.  305 

May,  1807,  when  she  nursed  and  assisted  till  his  end  the 
Abbd  Edgeworth  de  Firmont,  the  priest  who  had  accompanied 
Louis  XVI.  to  the  scaffold.  A  contagious  fever  broke  out 
among  the  French  prisoners  brought  to  Mittau  by  the  events 
of  the  war.  The  Abb^  Edgeworth,  in  taking  care  of  them,  con- 
tracted the  disease,  a  species  of  typhus  ;  and  it  was  under  these 
extreme  circumstances  that  Madame  d'Angouleme  would  not 
abandon  him.  "  The  less  knowledge  he  has  of  his  needs  and 
his  condition,"  she  said,  "  the  more  the  presence  of  a  friend 
is  necessary  to  him.  .  .  .  Nothing  can  prevent  me  from  nurs- 
ing the  Abbe  Edgeworth  myself ;  I  ask  no  one  to  accompany 
me."  She  wished  to  return  to  him,  as  much  as  it  was  in  her 
to  do  so,  that  which  he  had  carried  of  consolation  and  suc- 
cour to  Louis  XVI.  when  dying.  She  lived  and  dwelt  con- 
tinually in  that  line  of  thought,  without  being  distracted 
from  it  for  a  single  day. 

Did  Madame  d'Angouleme  ever  have  a  single  day  of  real 
happiness  after  her  issue  from  the  Temple  ?  Was  there  ever 
place  in  that  heart,  saturated  with  anguish  in  her  tenderest 
years,  for  one  unalloyed  and  veritable  j  oy  ?  It  would  be  strange 
if,  in  spite  of  all,  she  did  not  feel  one,  like  an  unexpected, 
gushing  spring,  during  the  great  moments  of  1814,  —  that 
year  which  must  have  seemed  to  her  at  every  step  a  startling 
testimony  to  the  wonders  of  Providence.  Nevertheless,  this 
sort  of  exaltation,  if  she  felt  it,  could  not  have  survived  the 
events  of  Bordeaux  and  the  new  and  bitter  proof  she  there 
obtained  of  human  frailty  and  unfaithfulness. 

She  was,  as  every  one  knows,  at  Bordeaux  at  the  moment 
when  Napoleon's  landing  in  Provence  from  Elba  (March 
1815)  became  known.  Madame  d'Angouleme,  obeying  the 
impulsion  of  her  maternal  blood,  had  the  idea  of  resistance, 
and  to  organize  it  she  did  all  that  we  should  expect  from  so 
noble  and  virile  a  character.     The  opinion  of  the  city  was 


300  MADAMH    ftUSABETII   I)E    FIIANCK.  [1778-1851 

wholly  favourable  and  dcvoteil  to  licr  ;  but  the  troops  iii  garri- 
son seemed  doubtful  from  the  moment  that  the  great  captain 
aiul  his  eagles  reappeared.  Nevertheless,  she  (although 
warned  by  the  generals),  she  could  not  believe  that  their 
fidelity  was  doubtful,  because,  only  the  evening  before,  she 
had  received  from  these  very  men,  whom  she  considered 
heroes,  reiterated  homage  and  oaths  of  fidelity. 

The  historians  of  the  Restoration  have  very  well  related 
those  scenes  in  which  Madame  d'Angouleme  figures,  and 
they  all  agree  in  praising  her  active  courage  and  her  bearing. 
She  went  through  the  barracks ;  she  strove  to  electrify  the 
soldiers,  she  piqued  their  honour  —  but  it  was  all  of  no  use  ; 
she  found  hearts  closed  against  her,  captured  again  by  the 
old  love.  At  the  moment  of  leaving,  after  exhausting  all 
efiforts,  she  turned  to  the  generals  who  had  followed  her,  and 
said  that  she  coimted  upon  them  to  at  least  guarantee  the 
inhabitants  of  Bordeaux  against  all  reaction.  "We  swear 
it !  "  cried  the  generals,  raising  their  hands.  "  I  do  not  ask 
you  for  oaths,"  she  said,  with  a  gesture  of  disdainful  pity ; 
"  enough  have  been  made  to  me,  I  want  no  more."  Those 
haughty  words  she  had  the  right  to  say ;  surely  few  persons 
have  seen  with  their  eyes  how  far  the  malignancy  or  the 
instability  of  men  can  go. 

Mirabeau  said  of  Marie-Antoinette,  "  The  king  has  but 
one  man,  and  that  is  his  wife."  The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme 
deserves  the  speech  of  a  like  nature  which  Napoleon  made 
about  her  conduct  at  Bordeaux.  Such  praises,  even  though 
they  may  be  slightly  exaggerated,  serve  as  indications  from 
afar  and  are  registered  in  history. 

The  second  Eestoration  could  bring  her  no  elation;  on 
entering  the  Tmleries  she  saw  Fouch^,  a  regicide,  made  the 
king's  minister.  Her  upright  and  inviolable  conscience  could 
not  admit  for  a  single  moment  such  monstrous  compromises, 


1778-1851]  THE   DUCHESSE   D'ANGOULEME.  307 

which  policy  itself  finds  it  difficult  to  understand  and  which, 
most  assuredly,  it  did  not  require.  After  that  moment  in 
1815,  we  never  meet  Madame  d'Angouleme  again  in  any 
political  action,  properly  so  called ;  her  whole  after  life  was 
domestic  and  inward. 

I  have  questioned,  in  regard  to  her,  men  who  approached 
her  constantly,  and  this  is  what  they  tell  me.  Each  day  was 
alike  to  her,  except  the  funereal  days  of  her  sorrowful  anni- 
versaries. She  rose  very  early,  at  half-past  five  o'clock  for 
example ;  she  heard  mass  for  herself  alone  between  six  and 
seven.  It  is  conjectured  that  she  took  the  communion  often, 
but  she  was  never  seen  to  do  so,  except  on  the  great  days  occa- 
sionally. No  solemnity,  no  formal  preparations;  she  was 
only  a  humble  Christian  doing  a  religious  act ;  she  did  dis- 
creetly and  secretly  saintly  things. 

In  the  early  morning  she  attended  to  the  care  of  her  room, 
in  the  Tuileries  almost  as  she  did  in  the  Tfemple. 

She  never  spoke  of  the  painful  and  bleeding  things  of  her 
youth,  unless  to  a  very  few  persons  in  her  intimacy.  The 
21st  of  January  and  the  16th  of  October,  the  death  days 
of  her  father  and  mother,  she  shut  herself  up  alone,  sometimes 
sending,  to  help  her  in  passing  the  cruel  hours,  for  some  person 
with  whom  she  was  in  harmony  of  mourning  and  piety, — 
the  late  Mme.  de  Pastoret,  for  example. 

She  was  charitable  to  a  degree  that  no  one  knows,  and 
which  it  is  hard  to  fathom  ;  those  who  were  best  informed  as 
to  her  alms  and  other  deeds  were  constantly  discovering 
others,  which  came  up,  it  were,  as  from  underground,  and  of 
which  they  knew  nothing.  In  that  she  was  of  the  true  and 
direct  lineage  of  Saint  Louis. 

Her  life  was  very  regular  and  very  simple,  whether  in  the 
Tuileries  or  elsewhere  in  exile.  The  conversation  around 
her  was  always  very  natural.     At  moments,  when  misfortune 


308  MADA.MK    KLISABETII    DK    FRANCE.  [1778-1851 

nuuki  truce  for  a  wiiilo,  it  was  noticed  that  slie  Iiad  in  lier 
mind  or  in  her  nature  a  certain  gaiety,  of  wliicli,  alas!  she 
could  make  too  little  usage.  Still,  on  lier  best  days  and  in 
privacy  she  would  let  herself  go,  if  not  to  saying,  at  least  to 
liearing,  things  that  were  gay.  "WTien  she  felt  herself  in  safe 
and  friendly  regions  a  certain  pleasantry  did  not  frighten  her, 
and  when  on  festivals  she  was  expected  to  order  plays  for 
her  theatre  she  did  not  choose  the  most  serious. 

Even  amid  the  habit  of  pain  there  rose  to  the  surface  a 
sort  of  joy,  such  as  comes  to  tried  and  austere  souls,  whom 
religion  has  guided  and  consoled  throughout  all  time. 

Politics  were  not  for  her;  she  did  not  like  public  affairs. 
No  influence  affected  her.  Her  policy,  which  if  it  came  from 
herself  would  have  been  judicious,  was  ruled  completely  by 
the  desires  of  the  king.  She  thought  that  when  the  king 
decidedly  wished  anything  it  was  not  permissible  to  resist  it, 
however  good  a  royalist  one  might  be.  MM.  de  Villfele  and 
Corbiferes  in  resisting  the  king  displeased  her  quite  as  much 
as  the  liberals  themselves  could  have  done. 

She  was  educated,  in  the  style  of  the  instruction  of  Louis 
XVI. ;  she  read  books  of  history,  travels,  moralit}^  and  re- 
ligion. If  her  reading  lacked  that  which  is  vivifying  in  a 
worldly  and  literary  sense,  in  the  political  and  profane 
sense,  if  the  breath  and  the  intelligence  of  the  new  epoch 
never  crossed  the  lines  of  her  horizon,  can  we  wonder  at 
it  ?  can  we  pity  her  for  it  ?  did  she  not  gain  far  more  than 
she  lost  through  her  fixed  faith  and  the  stability  of  her 
confidence  in  Heaven  ? 

The  letters  that  are  quoted  as  hers,  and  probably  all  those 
that  she  wrote,  are  simple,  sensible,  a  little  stiff  and  dry,  and 
presenting  nothing  remarkable. 

Few  good  sayings  of  hers  have  been  repeated,  although 
her  heart  occasionally  suggested  one.     Apropos  of  the  war 


1778-1851]  THE  DUCHESSE  D'ANGOULEME.  309 

in  Spain,  when  she  heard  of  the  deliverance  of  King  Fer- 
dinand by  a  French  army,  she  exclaimed :  "  So  it  is  proved 
that  an  unfortunate  king  can  be  saved ! " 

Dm'ing  her  last  exile  at  Frohsdorf  she  was  visited  (De- 
cember, 1848)  by  a  French  traveller,  M.  Charles  Didier, 
who  ventured  to  say  to  her :  "  Madame,  it  is  impossible 
that  you  should  not  see  in  the  fall  of  Louis-Philippe  the 
finger  of  God."  "  It  is  in  all  things,"  she  replied  with 
simplicity,  but  also  with  a  tact  which  came  from  religion, 
and  from  the  heart  as  well. 

It  was  the  same  moral  delicacy  which,  in  her  union  with 
the  Due  d'Angouleme  made  her  constantly  ignore  what 
there  was  of  inequality  between  them.  She  took  pains  to 
put  him  forward  on  the  front  line,  —  a  delicacy  the  more 
real  because  it  was  never  known  whether  she  was  con- 
scious of  it. 

I  have  told  the  class  of  sentiments  to  which  we  must 
limit  ourselves  in  seeking  her  and  admiring  her.  Do  not 
ask  of  that  soul,  so  early  wounded  and  despoiled,  either  co- 
quetry of  mind  or  the  lighter  graces.  She  would  have 
thought  it  profanation  and  indeed  a  sacrilege  to  have 
made  her  sorrows  and  those  of  her  parents,  her  virtue 
and  the  respectful  interest  she  inspired,  a  means  of  policy, 
success,  or  attraction  for  what  she  believed  to  be  the  "  good 
cause."  She  would  have  blamed  herself  for  so  doing  be- 
fore God ;  and  when  the  memory  of  all  that  she  had  lost 
came  back  to  her  she  could  only  veil  herself  and  withdraw 
into  her  soul  with  sobs  and  tears. 

Enough  said  to  indicate  that  august  nature,  that  none 
have  been  tempted  to  misconceive :  solidity,  good  sense, 
kindness,  a  certain  background,  as  I  have  said,  of  gaiety, 
and  a  perfect  simplicity,  —  those  are  the  chief  traits  which 
composed  that  nature.     Religion  with  charity  placed  upon 


310  MADAMi:  fii,isAiu;rii  dk  fkaxck        [iTTM-isr.i 

it  a  soul  sublime,  llor  religiDii  was  the  must  imifurm,  the 
most  ])raotieal,  and  abst)lutely  foreign  to  all  eflect  on  others 
anil  all  worhlly  considerations.  No  one  ever  bore  more 
simi'ly,  naturally,  or  with  more  Christianity  a  greater 
wcie. 

The  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  died  at  Frohsdorf  October 
19,  1851,  aged  seventy-three  years  and  four  months,  and 
in  the  twenty-first  year  of  her  last  exile.  Her  preceding 
exile  lasted  eighteen  years  (not  counting  the  Hundred 
Hays),  They  were  preceded  by  imprisonment  in  the 
Tem})le  for  three  years,  and  a  forced  confinement  in  the 
Tuileries  in  the  midst  of  riot  and  danger  for  three  more. 
That  was  the  frame  of  this  destiny  of  sorrow  and  sacrifice, 
on  which  Antiquity  would  have  shed  its  poesy  and  its 
idealism,  while  we  see  only  its  inner  beauty,  half-veiled, 
as  becomes  Christianity. 


APPENDIX  I. 


Montreuil. 

In  1792  the  Commune  of  Versailles  took  possession  of  Madame 
^Elisabeth's  much  loved  Montreuil,  which  was  thenceforth  called 
the  "  Maison  d'Elisabeth  Capet."  Seals  were  placed  upon  it 
until  inventories  were  made  and  the  property  in  it  sold  by  the 
agents  of  the  National  Domain.  After  that  it  was  let  to  various 
persons,  and  used  for  vario\is  purposes  until  finally  it  fell  into  a 
state  of  dilapidation  and  was  sold,  on  the  6th  of  May,  1802,  as  a 
National  domain  by  the  Commune  of  Versailles  to  Citizen  Jean- 
Michel-Maximilien  Villers,  living  in  Paris,  rue  de  I'Universite, 
No.  269,  for  the  sum  of  75,900  francs. 

Some  of  Madame  Elisabeth's  servants  remained  on  the  place 
for  a  time  to  take  care  of  it  for  their  new  masters.  But  her 
faithful  Jacques  Bosson  and  his  wife,  who  had  charge  of  the  cows 
and  dairy,  being  obnoxious  to  the  revolutionaries  on  account  of 
their  nationality  (Swiss),  were  thrown  into  prison,  where,  being 
foreigners  and  friendless,  they  languished  for  some  years.  Among 
the  archives  of  Versailles  is  a  pathetic  letter  to  the  municipality 
dated  March  7,  1793,  from  one  of  Madame  Elisabeth's  servants 
asking  for  food  for  her  dogs;  he  says  they  are  three  large  dogs, 
and  he  no  longer  has  the  means  to  feed  them.  The  cows  were 
sold,  the  hens  died  for  want  of  care,  the  garden  was  torn  up  and 
devastated,  the  fruit  stolen. 

Some  of  the  inventories  of  the  property  (made  by  order  of  the 
Department  of  National  Domain  in  October,  1792)  are  very  inter- 
esting, especially  those  of  the  garden  and  grounds,  and  of  the 
library.  There  were  487  plants  in  the  greenhouses,  of  145  diiferent 
species.  Of  these  35  were  orange-trees,  and  15  pomegranates. 
Many  of  the  plants,  the  Latin  names  of  which  are  given,  are  choice 
varieties  of  their  kind  even  at  tlie  present  day. 


CA2  APPENDIX   1.  [171)2 

In  tlio  nursery  grounds  were  14  kinds  of  young  trees  and  shrubs; 
(ll.'>  in  all;  of  wliich  300  were  Scotch  pines,  250  asli-leaved 
niaplos,  ir>0  Arhrcs  tie  Saintc-Lucir  [  ?]  sjiireas,  dogwoods, 
(iyringas,  lilacs,  cherries,  etc. 

The  library  contained  1'075  volumes;  a  remarkable  collection 
for  that  period,  with  a  wide  outlook  in  history,  memoirs,  biog- 
nphy,  and  essays  on  the  political  condition  of  France.  Of 
history,  there  were  406  volumes,  among  tliem  Hume's  England, 
llobertson's  Scotland,  Gibbon's  Komau  Empire,  histories  of  all 
the  countries  of  Europe,  of  Constantinople,  Japan,  the  Ottoman 
Empire,  Arabia,  Siam,  etc.  Of  memoirs  and  biography,  203 
volumes.  These  were  chiefly  French,  beginning  with  Villehardouin 
and  coming  down  to  Mme.  de  Staal-Delaunay  and  the  Letters  of 
^Ime.  de  Pompadour.  There  were  many  classics,  chiefly  trans- 
lated ;  the  Bible  in  31  volumes ;  all  the  great  poems  (among  them 
"  Le  Paradis  Perdu")  and  the  chief  French  dramatists;  also  42 
volumes  of  Fairy  tales;  the  Arabian  Nights,  Robinson  Crusoe, 
and  a  small,  a  very  small  sprinkling  of  novels.  But  most  inter- 
esting of  all  are  the  books  she  bought  in  the  last  year  of  her  living 
life,  before  the  tomb  of  the  Temple  closed  upon  her.  Among 
them  were :  — 

Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France  by   Mr.  Burke,  1791. 

Speeches  and  Letters  of  Mr.  Burke,  1790,  1791. 

The  Constitution  of  England. 

Rights  and  Duties  of  a  Citizen. 

Political  Situation  of  France,  and  its  present  Relations  with  all 
the  Powers  of  Europe,  1789. 

The  Evil  and  its  Remedy ;  Memorial  on  the  Militia  of  the  Army, 
1789. 

The  True  Patriot. 

The  King's  Household:  what  it  was,  what  it  is,  and  wliat  it 
should  be,  1789. 

Principles  opposed  to  the  System  of  M.  Necker,  by  M.  de  Favras, 
1790. 

Present  situation  of  France,  1791. 

The  Naviget  antijciras,  or  System  without  Principles,  1791. 

The  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  placed  before  the  Eyes  of  Europe, 
1791. 


1794]  APPENDIX  11.  313 

Impulse    of  the  Heart  and  Mind,  or   Justice  rendered  to  the 
Queen,  1791. 

Plan  for  a  Free  and  Happy  Constitution,  1790. 


Among  a  mass  of  papers  preserved  in  the  arcliives  of  Versailles, 
sad  and  sorrowful  reading  as  they  are,  there  is  one  amusing  little 
record  of  Madame  Elisabeth's  extravagance  in  a  detail  of  dress.  It 
is  a  bill  of  her  shoemaker,  named  Bourbon,  rue  Neuve  des  Augus- 
tins,  Paris,  for  shoes  supplied  to  her  nearly  every  other  day  from 
April  6,  1792,  to  June  30,  a  short  three  months ;  never  more  than 
two  pairs  at  a  time  were  sent,  and  the  dates  are  given.  There  were 
27  sendings  and  32  pairs  of  silk  shoes  [taff^etat]  :  1 6  pairs  of  black, 
5  pairs  of  gray,  3  of  blue,  2  of  russet,  2  of  puce,  and  one  each  of 
Carmelite  and  green  —  all  of  silk.  It  is  true  that  Madame  Elisabeth 
mentions  having  walked  for  three  or  four  hours  in  the  garden,  and 
speaks  of  "  the  shocking  mud, "  crotte  indigne,  so  perhaps  it  is  no 
wonder  that  silk  shoes  lasted  only  two  days. 


APPENDIX  II. 

First  Examination  of  Mada7)ie  l^lisabeth  hy  Fouquier- 
Tinville,  May  9,  1794.     Frovi  the  Official  Record. 

This  day,  twentieth  floreal,  year  two  of  the  Republic,  before 
Antoine-Quentin  Fouquier  ...  we  have  asked  the  name,  age, 
profession,  place  of  birth,  and  residence  of  Elisabeth  Marie  Capet, 
sister  of  Louis  Capet,  age  thirty,  born  at  Versailles. 

Q.  Did  you  conspire  witli  the  late  tyrant  against  the  safety 
and  liberty  of  the  French  people  ? 

A.  I  am  ignorant  to  whom  you  give  that  title;  but  I  have 
never  desired  anything  but  the  happiness  of  the  French  people. 

Q.  Have  you  maintained  correspondence  with  the  internal  and 
external  enemies  of  the  Republic,  especially  with  the  brothers  of 
Capet  and  yourself?  and  have  you  furnished  them  help  in  money? 

A.     I  have  known  none  but  those  who  loved  France.     I  have 


:M4  APPENDIX  ir.  1 1:94 

novor  furnishoil  help  to  my  brothers;  and  since  the  montli  of 
August,  \79-,  1  havo  roceivoil  no  news  of  tlicm,  nor  have  I  sent 
them  any. 

Q.     ]>itl  you  not  send  them  diamonds? 

A.     No. 

Q.  I  call  your  attention  to  the  fact  that  your  answer  is  not 
correct  as  to  the  diamonds,  inasmuch  as  it  is  notorious  that  you 
sent  your  diamonds  to  be  sold  in  Holland  and  other  foreign  coun- 
tries, and  that  you  sent  their  proceeds,  by  your  agents,  to  your 
brothers,  to  help  them  in  maintaining  their  rebellion  against  the 
French  people. 

A.     I  deny  the  charge,  because  it  is  false. 

Q.  I  call  you  to  notice  that  in  the  trial  which  took  place  in 
Xovember,  1792,  relatively  to  the  theft  of  diamonds  made  from 
the  ci-devant  crown  property,  it  was  established  and  proved  that  a 
portion  of  tlie  diamonds  with  which  j^ou  formerly  adorned  your- 
self came  from  there,  and  it  was  also  proved  that  the  price  for 
wliich  they  were  sold  Avas  sent  to  your  brothers  by  your  orders; 
that  is  why  I  summon  you  to  explain  yourself  categorically  on 
those  facts. 

A.  I  am  ignorant  of  the  thefts  of  which  you  speak.  I  was 
at  that  period  in  the  Temple,  and  I  persist  in  my  previous 
denial. 

Q.  Did  you  not  have  knowledge  that  the  journey  determined 
upon  by  your  brother,  Louis  Capet,  and  Antoinette,  to  Saint- 
Cloud  on  April  18,  1791,  was  imagined  only  to  seize  the  occasion 
to  leave  France  ? 

A.  I  had  no  knowledge  of  that  journey  further  than  that  my 
brother  Avished  for  change  of  air,  not  feeling  well. 

Q.  Was  it  not  at  your  solicitation  and  that  of  Antoinette,  your 
sister-in-law,  that  Capet  fled  from  Paris  on  the  night  of  the 
20th  of  June,  1791  ? 

A.  I  learned  during  the  day  of  June  20  that  we  should  start 
that  niglit,  and  I  conformed  in  that  matter  to  the  orders  of  my 
brother. 

Q.  The  motive  of  that  journey  was  it  not  to  leave  France  and 
unite  yourselves  with  the  enilyres,  and  the  enemies  of  the  French 
people  % 


1794]  APPENDIX  II.  315 

A.  Never  did  my  brother,  or  I,  have  any  intention  of  quitting 
our  country. 

Q.  I  observe  to  you  that  that  answer  does  not  seem  correct, 
for  Bouille  had  given  orders  for  several  bodies  of  troops  to  be  at  a 
point  agreed  upon  to  protect  your  escape,  and  enable  you,  your 
brother,  and  others  to  leave  French  territory. 

A.  My  brother  was  on  his  way  to  Montm^dy,  and  I  never 
knew  him  to  have  any  other  intentions. 

Q.  Have  you  knowledge  of  the  secret  conferences  held  in  the 
apartments  of  Antoinette,  ci-devant  queen,  with  those  who  called 
themselves  the  Austrian  committee? 

A.     I  have  perfect  knowledge  that  none  such  were  ever  held. 

Q.  I  call  you  to  observe  that  it  is,  nevertheless,  notorious  that 
they  were  held  between  midnight  and  three  in  the  morning,  and 
those  who  attended  them  passed  through  what  was  then  called  the 
Gallery  of  Pictures. 

A.     I  have  no  knowledge  of  it. 

Q.  What  did  you  do  on  the  night  of  the  9th  and  10th  of 
August,  1792? 

A.  I  remained  in  my  brother's  room;  we  did  not  go  to  bed 
that  night. 

Q.  I  call  your  attention  to  the  fact  that,  having  each  your  sepa- 
rate apartments,  it  seems  strange  that  you  should  collect  in  that  of 
your  brother ;  no  doubt  that  meeting  had  a  motive,  which  I  call 
upon  you  to  explain. 

A.  I  had  no  other  motive  than  to  be  always  near  my  brother 
when  there  was  disturbance  in  Paris. 

Q.  That  night  did  you  not  go,  with  Antoinette,  into  a  hall 
where  the  Swiss  Guard  were  making  cartridges,  and  especially 
were  you  not  there  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  that  night  ? 

A.     I  was  not  there,  and  I  have  no  knowledge  of  that  hall. 

Q.  I  request  you  to  observe  that  your  answer  is  not  correct ;  it 
has  been  proved  at  several  trials,  that  Antoinette  and  you  went 
several  times  in  the  night  to  the  Swiss  Guards,  that  you  made 
them  drink,  and  urged  them  to  continue  the  making  of  cartridges! 
several  of  which  Antoinette  bit  off  herself. 

A.     That  never  happened ;  I  have  no  knowledge  of  it. 

Q.     I  represent  to  you  that  the  facts  are  too  notorious  for  you 
21  Mem.  Ver.  9 


APPENDIX   II. 


[1794 


not  to  romomUor  (lu'in,  and  jiot  to  know  tho  motive  which  assem- 
bK'il  Irotips  of  all  kinds  at  the  Tuileries  tlmt  night.  That  is  why 
1  again  suninion  you  to  declare  if  you  still  persist  in  your  denials, 
and  in  forgetting  the  motives  for  this  assembling  of  troops. 

A.  1  persist  in  my  denials,  and  I  add  that  1  know  no  motives 
for  that  assemblage.  I  know  only,  as  I  have  already  said,  that 
the  constituted  bodies  charged  with  the  safety  of  Paris,  came  to 
warn  my  brother  that  there  was  an  uprising  in  the  faubourgs,  and 
on  that  the  National  Guard  assembled  for  his  safety,  as  the  Con- 
stitution prescribed. 

Q.  At  the  time  of  the  escape  of  the  20th  of  June,  1791,  was 
it  not  you  %vho  brought  out  the  children  1 

A.     No ;  I  came  out  alone. 

Kcading  being  made  to  her  of  the  present  interrogatories,  she 
persisted  in  her  replies,  and  signed  with  us  and  the  clerk. 

;6lisabeth  Marie,     A.-Q.  Fouquier, 
Deli]£ge,  Ducray,  Clerk. 


BuJ^^f^    (Jfa 


a-rtfi 


^^2«y^ 


1792]  APPENDIX  m.  317 


APPENDIX  III. 

Extract  from  the  Deliberations  of  the  Commissioners  of  the 
Commune  on  the  Service  of  the  Temple. 

December  22,  1792,  Year  I.  of  the  Republic. 

At  six  in  the  evening  the  Council  assembled  to  deliberate  on 
the  two  subjects  here  following :  — 

1st.  Louis  Capet  appears  to  be  inconvenienced  by  the  length  of 
his  beard;  he  has  spoken  of  it  several  times.  They  proposed  to 
shave  him.  He  manifested  repugnance,  and  showed  a  desire 
to  shave  himself. 

The  Council  thought  yesterday  that  it  might  give  him  the  hope 
that  his  request  would  be  acceded  to  to-day ;  but  this  morning  it 
was  discovered  that  Louis  Capet's  razors  are  no  longer  in  the 
Temple.  On  that,  occasion  was  taken  to  discuss  the  matter  again ; 
it  has  been  amply  argued  and  the  result  is  a  unanimous  resolu- 
tion to  submit  the  matter  to  the  Council-general  of  the  Com- 
mune, which,  in  case  it  judges  proper  to  permit  Louis  Capet  to 
shave  himself,  will  direct  that  there  be  given  to  him  one,  or 
two,  razors,  of  which  he  will  make  use  before  the  eyes  of  four 
commissioners,  to  whom  the  said  razors  shall  be  immediately  re- 
turned, and  who  will  register  the  fact  that  the  return  has  been 
made  to  them. 

2d.  The  wife,  sister,  and  daughter  of  Louis  Capet  have  asked 
that  scissors  be  lent  to  them  to  cut  their  nails. 

The  Council  having  deliberated  thereon  has  likewise  voted 
unanimously  that  this  request  shall  also  be  submitted  to  the 
Council-general  of  the  Commune,  which  is  hereby  asked,  in  case 
it  gives  its  consent,  to  fix  the  method  to  be  employed  in  the 
matter. 

It  is  decreed  that  the  present  deliberation  shall  be  sent  to  the 
Council-general  of  the  Commune  this  daj,  and  earlv  enonch  for 


318  ArrKNDix  iv.  [1792 

tho  niiswor  to  roach  the  Council  of  tho  Comiuunc  in  the  Temple 
before  nij^'hU 

^Vnii  tho  following  do  sign  the  registers. 

!Maui{kkt,  DKFJtAasK,  Jon, 

KoBKKT  Malivoik,  auii  Dkstournelles. 


APPENDIX  ly. 

Sig7i^  agreed  upon  to  make  known  to  the  Princesses  the  Prog- 
ress  of  the  various  Armies.,  etc. ;  and  sundry  Communications 
from  Madame  Elisabeth  to  M.  Turgy. 

[The  queen  and  Madame  Elisabeth  arranged  a  system  of  signs 
with  Turgy,  the  faithful  waiter  who  brought  up  their  meals. 
These  with  several  written  communications  from  Madame  Elisa- 
beth, conveyed  to  him  in  a  variety  of  ways,  Turgy  took  to  Vienna 
in  1796,  and  gave  into  tho  hands  of  INIadame  Marie-Therese  de 
France.  The  following  (in  the  French)  was  copied  from  those 
originals]. 

The  English  put  to  sea :  right  thumb  on  right  eye ;  if  they  land 
near  Xantes,  put  it  on  right  ear;  if  near  Calais,  left  ear. 

If  the  Austrians  fight  on  Belgian  frontier,  forefinger  of  right 
hand  on  right  eye.  If  they  enter  France,  on  right  ear.  If  on  the 
Mayence  side,  same  with  middle  finger. 

Savoyards,  fourth  finger,  same  signs.  Spaniards,  fifth  [little] 
finger,  same  signs. 

Be  careful  to  hold  the  fingers  to  the  place  more  or  less  time 
according  to  importance  of  the  losses. 

When  they  are  within  15  leagues  of  Paris  keep  the  same  order 
for  the  fingers,  but  lay  them  on  the  mouth.* 

1  Remembering  all  that  Count  Fersen  tells  of  the  delays  and  the  callous 
indifference  of  the  Powers,  each  pretending  to  wait  for  the  others,  it  is 
piteous  to  think  of  these  women  watching  daily  for  signs  of  a  deliverer 
who  never  came,  but  left  them  coldly  to  their  one  deliverer,  Death.  —  Ta. 


1792]  APPENDIX   IV.  819 

If  the  Powers  speak  about  us,  lay  fingers  on  the  hair,  using  the 
right  hand. 

If  the  Assembly  pays  attention  to  them,  the  same,  using  the 
left. 

If  it  adjourns  [s'ew.  allalt],  the  whole  hand  over  the  head. 

If  the  rassemblements  [collections  of  emigres']  advance  here, 
and  gain  advantages,  the  finger  of  right  hand  on  the  nose  for  one 
advantage,  and  the  whole  hand  when  they  are  within  fifteen 
leagues  of  Paris. 

Use  the  left  hand  only  for  the  advantages  of  the  French. 

In  answer  to  all  questions  use  tlie  right  hand  only,  not  the  left, 
[Here  three  lines  are  undecipherable].  Is  there  a  truce,  raise 
your  collar.  Are  they  asking  for  us  on  the  frontier,  hand  in  coat 
pocket.  Are  they  negotiating,  in  waistcoat.  Paris,  are  they 
provisioning  it,  hand  on  chin.  Has  General  la  Marseille  gone,  on 
forehead.  Are  the  Spaniards  trying  to  join  the  Nantes  people, 
rub  the  eyebrow. 

Is  it  thought  we  shall  still  be  here  in  August  ?  After  supper 
go  to  Fidel  (Toulan);  ask  him  if  he  has  news  of  Produse.  If  he 
has  good  news,  napkin  under  right  arm ;  if  none  at  all,  under  left. 
Tell  him  that  we  fear  his  denunciation  may  bring  him  into  trouble. 
Ask  him  whenever  he  has  news  of  Produse  to  tell  you,  and  then 
sign  it  to  us. 

Can  you  not,  if  anything  new  happens,  write  it  to  us  with 
lemon-juice  on  the  paper  they  use  to  stopper  the  water-bottle,  or 
put  over  the  cream  1  or  perhaps  you  could  put  it  in  a  ball,  which 
you  could  throw  down  in  the  room  when  you  are  there  alone. 
Get  possession  of  the  paper  on  the  bottles  whenever  I  blow  my 
nose  as  I  leave  my  room.  The  days  when  you  use  that  means, 
lean  against  the  wall  as  I  pass  you. 

If  it  is  thought  we  shall  still  be  here  in  August  hold  the  napkin 
in  your  hand.     We  hope  you  will  not  bo  harassed  again. 

Do  not  fear  to  use  the  left  hand  for  bad  news  of  the  armies;  we 
prefer  to  know  all.  If  the  Swiss  declare  war  the  sign  is  a  finger 
on  the  chin.  If  the  Nantes  people  reach  Orl(:jans  two  fingers  on 
the  chin. 

What   are    they    crying    under    our    windows?  .  .  .  {several 


320  Arrr.NDix  iv.  [1792 

ironh  illeyihlc)  rpcoivod  his  pardon  yesterday.  .  .  .  Has  he  an 
idea  tliat  wo  aro  informed  ]  and  will  he  not  redouble  in  attentions 
to  prevent  it  1  Whatever  wrong  the  poor  man  has  done  it  can  only 
inspire  pity,  all  the  more  because  his  repentance  followed  immedi- 
ately upon  his  fault.  God  has  punished  him  very  severely.  We 
pity  him. 

Is  it  true  that  fear  has  seized  the  Parisians,  especially  young 
men  ?  My  sister  may  soon  ask  for  almontl-milk.  .  .  .  Has  the 
Commune  been  changed?  Is  Tison's  wife  as  crazy  as  they  say 
she  is  ?  Do  they  mean  to  send  any  one  to  us  in  her  place  ?  Is 
she  well  taken  care  of? 

Consider  carefully  the  disadvantages  of  T's  (Toulan's)  demand, 
and  do  not  let  your  zeal  lead  you  to  do  anything  to  your  injury; 
if  you  yield,  let  it  be  only  after  you  are  urged,  and  promised  the 
greatest  secrecy.  Are  you  not  expressly  forbidden  to  speak  to 
him  ?  Consider  all  that.  Try  to  find  out  if  they  are  not  trying  to 
throw  the  disturbances  on  my  companion  [the  queen]  and  take  her 
propert)/  (Louis  XVII.)  more  than  two  leagues  away  from  her.  It 
was  Fidel  (Toulan)  who  gave  us  the  newspaper  I  mentioned. 
The  manner  in  which  you  serve  us  is  our  consolation.  Ask  Mme. 
de  S.  (Serent)  for  answer  on  Miranda. 

We  saw  a  newspaper  yesterday  which  spoke  of  Saumur  and 
Angers  as  if  the  R  were  still  mistress  ;  what  does  that  mean  ? 
Is  Marat  really  dead?  has  it  made  an  excitement? 

Tell  Fidel  how  touched  we  are  by  his  last  note  ;  we  do  not 
need  his  assurances  to  rely  wholly  and  always  upon  him  ;  his 
signals  are  good.  We  only  want  Aux  armes,  citoyens  !  in  case 
they  intend  to  reunite  us.  But  we  hope  that  such  precautions 
will  not  be  necessary.  Is  your  fate  decided?  answer  this  ques- 
tion. If  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  get  your  note  quickly, 
lean  towards  us  and  lower  your  napkin.  Tison  sometimes  hin- 
ders our  taking  it  at  once.  But  we  will  watch  for  it  ;  do  not  be 
uneasy.  This  is  only  to  be  when  you  have  something  urgent  to 
say  to  us. 

Who  is  the  municipal  whom  they  suspect  of  being  in  corres- 
pondence with  us  ?  Is  it  by  writing,  or  merely  by  giving  news  ? 
Who   said   it?     Have   they  no   suspicion   of  you?     Take   care. 


1792]  APPENDIX  IV.  321 

You  must  give  this,  Tuesday,  to  the  person  to  whom  you  went 
Saturday  ;  it  is  the  woman.  Give  her  something  to  bring  out 
the  ink.  Send  no  answer  until  Tuesday,  so  as  not  to  multiply 
packages. 

Give  Fidel  this  note  from  us,  and  say  to  him  that  because  my 
sister  has  told  you  that  she  sees  the  little  boy  go  up  the  staircase, 
through  the  window  of  the  cabinet,  this  is  not  to  keep  him  from 
sending  us  news  of  him.  Why  do  they  beat  the  drums  every 
morning  at  six  o'clock?  Answer  this.  If  you  can  without  com- 
promising Mme.  de  Serent  [one  of  Madame  Elisabeth's  ladies], 
or  yourself,  tell  her,  that  I  beg  her  not  to  remain  in  Paris  for  me. 
The  proposal  at  the  Cordeliers  against  the  nobles  worries  me  for 
her.  If  anything  happens  at  the  Federation  do  not  fail  to  let  us 
know.  What  foundation  is  there  for  all  the  victories  they  have 
been  crying  for  the  last  three  days  ]  If  you  have  need  of  almond 
milk,  hold  your  napkin  low  when  I  .  .  . 

What  has  become  of  the  English  fleet?  and  of  my  brothers? 
Have  we  a,  fleet  at  sea  ?  What  do  you  mean  when  you  say  that 
all  goes  well  ?  Is  it  hope  of  a  quick  end,  of  a  change  in  the  pub- 
lic mind  ?  or  are  things  really  going  well  ?  Are  these  executions 
of  persons  whom  we  know  1  We  hear  them  cried  in  the  street. 
How  is  Mme.  de  Serent,  and  my  abbe  [Edgeworth  de  Firmont]  ? 
Constant  [M.  Hue]  ?  does  he  know  by  chance  any  news  of  Mme. 
de  Bombelles,  who  is  living  near  St-Gall  in  Switzerland  ?  What 
has  become  of  all  the  persons  at  Saint-Cyr  ?  Tell  me  if  you  have 
been  able  to  read  all  this ;  and  cover  the  water-bottle  with  good 
paper  that  we  can  use. 

As  for  Mme.  de  Serent,  as  soon  as  the  law  about  the  emigres 
is  wholly  finished  let  her  know,  and  continue  to  give  me  news  of 
her. 

This  is  for  Fidel.  What  you  tell  me  about  that  person  [the 
queen]  gives  me  great  pleasure.  Is  it  the  gendarme,  or  the  wo- 
man, who  sleeps  in  her  room  ?  Could  she  hear  through  the 
latter  anything  more  tlian  news  of  those  she  loves  ?  If  you  can- 
not be  useful  to  her  there,  put  yourself  in  some  place  whence  you 


322  APPENDIX    IV.  [17')2 

will  not  bo  forcoil  to  move  ;  but  let  mc  know  where,  in  case  we 
have  need  of  you.  I  do  not  consider  what  concerns  me,  but  if 
you  cannot  be  useful  to  that  person  come  and  join  me  in  case  you 
are  needed. 

I  cannot  yet  believe  that  3'ou  are  going  away.  Try  to  let  me 
know  wliat  is  decided  ;  whether  you  remain  and  Tison's  wife  re- 
turns. Could  you  throw  a  paper  into  the  basket,  or  put  it  in  a 
loaf  of  bread?  Tell  me  if  it  is  through  Mme.  de  Serent  that  you 
hear  news  of  a  being  who,  like  me,  knows  how  to  appreciate 
faithful  men  [the  Abbe  Edge  worth  de  Firmont].  It  is  with 
deep  regret  that  I  see  you  taken  from  me;  the  last  and  only  one 
that  remains  to  me. 

I  am  much  distressed;  save  yourself  for  the  daj's  when  we 
may  be  happier,  and  able  to  give  you  some  reward.  Carry  with 
you  the  consolation  of  having  been  useful  to  kind  and  unhappy 
masters.  Advise  Fidel  not  to  risk  too  much  for  our  signals.  If 
chance  lets  you  see  !Mme.  Mallemain  [one  of  Mme.  Elisabeth's 
waiting-women]  give  her  news  of  me  and  tell  her  I  think  of 
her. 

Adieu,  honest  man  [Turgy]  and  faithful  subject. 

My  little  girl  []Madame  Eoyale]  insists  that  you  made  her  a 
sign  yesterday  morning  ;  relieve  me  of  anxiety  if  you  still  can. 
I  have  found  nothing.  If  you  put  it  under  the  bucket  it  must 
have  flowed  away  with  the  water  and  will  certainly  never  be 
found.  If  there  is  any  news  for  us,  let  me  know  it  if  you  still 
can. 

Have  you  read  my  second  bit  of  paper,  in  which  I  spoke  of 
Mme.  Mallemain  1  Tell  Constant  [HueJ  that  I  am  convinced  of 
his  sentiments  ;  I  thank  him  for  the  news  he  gives  me,  and  I  am 
much  grieved  at  what  has  happened  to  him. 

Adieu,  honest  man  and  faithful  subject  !  I  hope  that  the  God 
to  whom  you  are  faithful  will  support  you,  and  console  you  in 
what  you  have  to  suffer. 


APPENDIX  V.  323 


APPENDIX  V. 

Zouis  XVI.'s  Seal  and  Ring. 

[Cl:ert  did  not  continue  in  the  service  of  the  dauphin,  as  the 
king  requested.  He  was  compelled  to  give  up  the  above-named 
articles  to  the  Council  of  the  Commune,  and  they  remained  in 
the  council-room  of  the  Tower  until  they  were  mysteriously 
stolen.  This  was  done  (as  will  be  seen  by  the  Narrative  of 
Marie-Therese  de  France)  at  the  instigation  of  the  queen,  who 
was  passionately  desirous  of  rescuing  these  memorials  of  her 
husband  for  her  son.  Eventually,  after  the  queen's  death, 
Turgy  took  the  seal  to  Ifonsieur,  and  the  ring  to  the  Corate 
d'Artois,  as  will  be  seen  by  the  following  Note  to  Clery'a 
Journal.] 

Having  started  from  Vienna  on  my  way  to  England,  I  passed 
through  Blankemburg  with  the  intention  of  doing  homage  to 
the  king  [Louis  XVIII.]  and  presenting  to  him  my  manuscript. 
When  His  Majesty  reached  this  part  of  my  Journal,  he  searched 
in  his  secretary  and  showing  me  with  emotion  a  seal,  he  said  to 
me :  "  Clery,  do  you  recognize  iti"  "  Ah  !  Sire,  it  is  the 
very  one."  "  If  you  doubt  it,"  said  the  king,  "  read  this  note." 
I  read  it  trembling,  and  I  asked  the  king's  permission  to  print 
the  precious  document.  The  following  is  a  copy  from  the 
original  :  — 

"  Having  one  faithful  being  on  whom  we  can  rely,  I  profit  by 
him  to  send  to  my  brother  and  friend,  this  deposit  which  can 
be  intrusted  to  no  hands  but  his.  The  bearer  will  tell  you  by 
what  miracle  we  have  been  able  to  obtain  these  precious  pledges. 
I  reserve  to  myself  to  tell  you  some  day  the  name  of  him  who  has 
been  so  useful  to  us.  The  impossibility,  up  to  this  time,  of  giving 
you  any  news  of  us,  and  the  excess  of  our  sorrows,  makes  us  feel 
even  more  keenly  our  cruel  separation.     May  it  not   be  much 


:VJ4  AITKNOIX   V, 

longer  !   I  cmlimco  y^'i  meantime  ixs  1  lovo  you,  ami  you  know  that 
that  is  with  all  my  heart. 

"M.  A.  [Mario  Antoinette]." 

"  T  am  cliargeil  for  my  brother  and  myself  to  embrace  you  with 

all  our  hearts. 

"M.  T.  [:\rarie-Thcr^se].     Louis." 

"  I  enjoy  in  advance  the  pleasure  you  will  feci  in  receiving  tliis 
pledge  of  friendship  and  confidence.  To  be  reunited  with  you, 
anil  to  see  you  happy  is  all  that  I  desire  ;  you  know  if  I  love 
you  ;  I  kiss  you  with  all  my  heart. 

"E.  M.  [:6lisabeth  Marie]." 

The  ring  was  sent  with  a  packet  of  the  king's  [Louis  XVI.] 
hair  to  Monseigneur  le  Comte  d'Artois.  Here  is  the  note  that 
accompanied  it  :  — 

"  Having  at  last  found  means  to  confide  to  our  brother  one  of 
the  two  sole  pledges  that  remain  to  us  of  the  being  whom  we  all 
mourn  and  cherish,  I  thought  you  would  be  very  glad  to  have 
something  that  came  from  him  ;  keep  it  as  a  sign  of  the  tender- 
est  friendship  with  which  I  embrace  you  with  all  my  heart. 

"  M.  A." 

"  What  happiness  for  me,  my  dear  friend,  my  brother,  to  be 
able  after  so  long  a  space  of  time  to  speak  to  you  of  my  feelings. 
What  I  have  suffered  for  you  !  A  time  will  come ,  I  hope,  when 
I  can  embrace  you,  and  tell  you  that  never  will  you  find  a  friend 
truer  and  more  tender  than  I ;  you  do  not  doubt  it,  I  hope. 

"E.  M," 


INDEX. 


Angodleme  (Dnc  d'),  209;  marriage 
to  Marie-Therese,  Madame  Rojale  de 
France,  290,  291. 

AosTA  (Duke  of),  suitor  to  Mme.  Elisar 
beth,  9. 

Artois  (Charles,  Comte  d'),  character- 
istics, 14,  15 ;  relations  with  Mme. 
Elisabeth,  21,  22;  she  disapproves  of 
his  intimacy  with  Calonne,  58  ;  re- 
lations with  his  family  during  the 
Kevolution,  69-71,  73;  letters  from 
Mme.  Elisabeth,  76,  77,  324. 

August  10,  1792.  Clery's  account  of 
it,  112-118;  Madame  Koyale's  ac- 
count of  it,  236-243. 

Baillt  (Jean  Sylvain),  astronomer, 
author  of  "  History  of  Astronomy," 
mayor  of  Paris,  215. 

Barn  AVE  ( A  ntoine-Pierre-Joseph-Ma- 
rie),  goes  to  Varennes  to  bring  back 
the  king,  226,  227. 

Beauchesne  (M.  a.  de),  his  "Vie  de 
Madame  Elisabeth,"  1. 

BoMBELLES  (Marquise  de),  one  of  Mme. 
Elizabeth's  friends  and  correspond- 
ents, 10;  Mme.  E.'s  letters  to  her 
and  others,  33-89  ;  Mme.  6.  inquires 
for  her  in  her  last  days,  321. 

BouiLLE  (Marquis  de),  and  his  son, 
their  failure  at  Varennes,  221,  222. 

Brazil  (Infant  of  Portugal,  Prince  of), 
suitor  to  Mme.  l"]lisabeth,  8. 

Breteuil  (Baron  de),  his  powers  from 
Louis  XVI.,  74. 

Calonne  (Charles-Alexandre  de),  34, 
35,  58. 


Causans  (Marquise  de),  superintendent 
of  Mme.  Elisabeth's  household, 
10. 

Causans  (Mile.  Marie  de),  Mme.  Elisa- 
beth's letter  to  her,  38-40. 

Causans  (Marqiiis  de),  correspondence 
with  Mme.  I^lizabeth  lost,  10. 

Chaumette  (Pierre-Gaspard),  274  ; 
brutal  questioning  of  Madame  Elisa- 
beth and  her  niece,  275,  276. 

Chauveau-Lagarde  (M.),  his  defence 
of  Mme.  Elisabeth,  92,  101,102;  and 
of  the  Queen,  277. 

Choiseul  (Due  de),  at  Varennes,  221, 
222. 

Cli!;ry,  Louis  XVI. 's  valet  de  cliamhre, 
his  "  Journal  of  the  Temple,"  2,  111- 
206  ;  his  account  of  Augu.st  10,  1792, 
112-118;  admitted  to  the  Tower  of 
the  Temple  to  serve  the  king  and 
dauphin,  119-121  ;  massacres  of  Sept. 
2  and  3  ;  Madame  de  Lamballe's  head 
brought  to  the  Temple,  122-124;  de- 
scription of  the  small  tower  of  the 
Temple,  125  ;  life  of  the  royal  family, 
126-129  ;  character  and  insolence  of 
their  jailers,  130-137 ;  instances  of 
pity,  134, 135  ;  description  of  the  great 
Tower  of  the  Temple,  148,  149;  nar- 
rative of  events  in  the  Tower  till  the 
king's  condemnation,  150-165;  same 
till  his  death,  17,5-206  ;  mentioned  in 
the  Narrative  of  Marie-'i'lu'ri'se  de 
France,  252,  254,  259,  260;  his  in- 
terview with  Louis  XVIII.  at  Blank- 
emburg,  323. 

Clotilde  he  France  (Madame), 
Queen  of  Sardinia,  sisterly  relations 


326 


INDEX. 


with  Mnip.  ^'lis;\l)Oth,  .?,  i  ;  their  sor- 
rowful {virtiiii;,  7. 

Ih  MoiuiKZ  (Charles  Fnin(,'()is),  2f>l. 

Ki.iSAiiKTii  PK  Frxncb  (IMiilippinc- 
Marie-llelouc,  Matlaino),  birth,  early 
charaotor,  self-will,  ami  jiriile,  2,  3 ; 
grail iial  change  muler  wise  niaiiage- 
nient.  4-G  ;  Marie-Antoinette's  juilg- 
nieut  of  her  as  a  child,  7  ;  her  house- 
hohl  formed,  proposals  of  marriage, 
8,  9 ;  attachment  to  her  young 
friends,  10-12  ;  jilans  her  life,  her 
]H>rson;il  appearance,  16;  enthusia,*;ra 
for  the  war  of  independence  in  Amer- 
ica, 17.  18;  the  king's  gift  to  her  of 
Moutreuil,  and  her  hfe  there,  19-22  ; 
devotion  to  her  brothers,  especially 
the  king,  5,  21,  22;  her  fears  for 
and  of  him  in  the  future,  22 ;  her 
spirit  of  faith,  23  ;  her  l:i^t  day  at 
Montreuil,  Oct.  5,  1789,  her  firm  and 
wise  advice  to  Louis  XVI.,  24 ;  her 
farewell  to  Montreuil,  25  ;  life  and 
anxieties  in  the  Tuileries  till  June 
20,  1791,  25,  26  ;  the  same  till  June 
20,  1792,  27,  28;  Resignation;  her 
la.st  letter,  31  ;  August  10,  1792,  her 
last  appearance  to  the  world  until 
her  execution.  May  10,  1794,  32;  her 
letters  to  friends  from  1786  to  Au- 
gu.st  8,  1792,  33-89  ;  fac-simile  of  her 
writing,  87 ;  of  her  seals,  89 ;  the 
record  of  her  life  in  the  Tower  of 
the  Temple  told  by  her  niece  and  by 
Cle'ry,  90;  the  municipality  of  Paris 
demands  her  arraignment,  90,  91 ; 
she  is  taken  from  the  Temple  and 
examined  by  Fouquier-Tinville,  92, 
and  Appendix,  313-316  ;  indicted  and 
arraigned  with  twenty-four  others 
before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal, 
9.3-95;  her  examination,  9.5-101; 
sentenced  to  death ;  Fonquier-Tin- 
ville's  remark  upon  her,  103  ;  inspires 
and  strengthens  those  who  are  to  die 
with  her,  104,  105;  her  death,  106; 
C'lery's  account  of  her  life  in  the 
Tower  of  the  Temple,  118,  122-124, 


126-129,  135,  137,  HI,  150,  151,  154, 
15f.,  159,  160,  164,  166,  169-171,  177, 
17S;  the  parting  from  Louis  XVI., 
I'.t'.i,  200  ;  account  given  (jf  her  in  the 
Narrative  of  her  niece,  Mario  Thc'rese 
do  France, on  October  5, 1789,  210,  213; 
on  the  flight  to  Varennos,  216,  218; 
on  Juno  20,  1792,  her  bravery  and 
speech,  232,  234,  239  ;  in  the  Tower 
of  the  Temple,  2.53,  261,  264,  267, 
269,  272 ;  her  examination  in  the 
Temple,  274-276  ;  life  in  the  Tower 
from  the  queen's  death  to  her  own 
martyrdom,  278-283  ;  her  examina- 
tion at  the  Conciergerie  by  F'ouquier- 
Tiuville,  313-316;  her  system  of  signs 
and  notes  of  communication  in  the 
Temple  with  Turgy  and  Toulan,  318- 
322  ;  last  words  to  Monsieur  and  the 
Comte  d'  Artois,  324. 

Falloux  (Comte  de),  de.scription  of  the 
Duchesse  d'AngouIC-mo  just  before 
her  death  in  1851,  291. 

Favras  (M.  de),  execution  of,  25,  45; 
book  by  him,  312. 

Fayettk  (.Marquis  de  la),  his  conduct 
on  the  5th  and  6th  of  October,  1789, 
24 ;  made  governor  of  the  Tuileries 
and  keeper  of  king's  person  after  re- 
turn from  Varennes,  27  ;  convinced 
of  his  mistaken  course,  becomes  will- 
ing to  save  the  king,  29,  49 ;  com- 
mands the  rioters  October  5,  1789, 
and  compels  the  king  to  go  to  Paris, 
211,  213-215,  218;  sends  in  pursuit 
of  the  king  to  Vareunes,  222,  228, 
229,  246. 

Ferrand  (Antoine),  Minister  of  State, 
and  peer  of  France,  his  Eloge  His- 
torique  de  Madame  Elisabeth  de 
France,  1. 

Fersen  (Axel,  Count),  the  flight  to 
Varennes,  218,  219. 

FiRMONT  (the  Abbe  Edgeworth  de), 
becomes  Mme.  Elisabeth's  confessor, 
59 ;  extract  from  his  Memoirs,  59, 
60  ;  summoned  by  the  king  after  his 
condemnation,  194,  195  ;  is  with  the 
king  the  last  evening  of  his  life,  198  ; 


INDEX. 


327 


says  mass  on  the  last  morning,  201, 
202,  257;  last  words  to  Louis  XVI. 
on  the  scaffold,  258 ;  Marie  Therose, 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  nurses  him 
in  his  last  illness,  321,  322. 
FouQuiER-TiNviLLE  ( Antoinc-Quen- 
tin),  examination  and  arraignment 
of  Madame  Elisabeth,  92-96,  313- 
316;  his  remark  upon  her,  103. 

GOGUELAT  (M.),  64,  221. 

GoMiER,  jailer  at  the  Temple,  ap- 
pointed after  9th  Thermidor,  his 
kindness  to  the  dauphin,  287. 

GusTAVUs  III.,  King  of  Sweden,  his 
murder  and  death,  79. 

Hue  (Francois),  the  Narrative  of  the 
Duchesse  d'Angouleme  given  to  him, 
209,  248. 

Joseph  II.  of  Austria,  Emperor  of 
Germany,  a  suitor  to  Madame  Elisa- 
beth, 9. 

June  20,  1791,  Varennes:  account  of 
it  in  the  Narrative  of  Marie  Therese 
de  France,  216-230. 

June  20,  1792,  assault  on  the  Tuileries, 
account  of  it  in  same  Narrative,  230- 
236. 

Lamballe  (Marie-Ther^se-Louise  de 
Savoie-Carignan,  Princesse  de),  tries 
to  brighten  the  queen's  life  in  the 
Tuileries  after  October  6,  1789,  25; 
leaves  the  Tuileries  with  the  royal 
family,  August  10,  1792,  32;  goes 
with  them  to  the  Tower  of  the 
Temple,  115,  118  ;  horrible  indig- 
nities to  her  head  and  body  after  her 
murder,  September  3d,  122-124, 130; 
mention  of  her  by  Marie  Therese  dc 
France,  233 ;  in  the  Temple,  244, 245, 
248,  249. 

Lasne,  jailer  in  the  Temple  who  suc- 
ceeds Laurent,  takes  the  greatest  care 
of  the  dauphin,  288. 

Laurent,  appointed  after  9th  Thermi- 
dor jailer  to  the  dauphin  and  Marie- 
The'rese,  his  kindness,  285-289. 


Louis  XVI.,  becomes  king  at  the  age 
of  19,  7;  his  character,  12,  13,  15; 
his  reforms,  7,  8,  16,  17 ;  gives  Mon- 
treuil  to  Mme.  Elisabeth,  18,  19  ;  his 
need  of  her,  22;  October  5,  1789,  his 
weakness  and  indecision,  24 ;  urged 
by  Mme.  Elisabeth  to  firmness  and 
action,  25,  27 ;  his  weak  letter  to  his 
confessor,  June  20,  1792,  28;  vainly 
urged  by  the  Constitutionals  to  form 
a  National  party  and  put  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  army,  29-31 ;  aban- 
dons the  Tuileries  against  the  will  of 
his  wife  and  sister,  August  10,  1792, 
31,32;  his  character  transformed  in 
the  Tower  of  the  Temple,  32  ;  signs 
the  Constitution,  67,  68,  71 ;  his  life 
in  the  Tower  described  by  his  valet, 
Cle'ry,  119-165;  the  books  he  read, 
150;  is  summoned  for  trial  before 
the  National  Convention,  166-172; 
obtains  counsel,  173;  is  separated 
from  his  family,  175;  his  Will,  180- 
184  ;  appears  the  second  time  before 
the  Convention,  185;  his  sentence  to 
death,  188-194;  his  conduct  under  it, 
194  et  seq. ;  sends  for  the  Abbe'  Edge- 
worth  de  Firmont,  195;  the  parting 
with  his  family,  198-200;  prepares 
for  death,  201-204 ;  leaves  the  Temple 
for  the  scaffold,  205 ;  his  daughter's 
account  of  him  on  October  5,  1789, 
on  the  flight  to  Varennes,  on  June 
20,  1792,  on  August  10,  1792,  210- 
243 ;  from  the  imprisonment  in  the 
Tower  of  the  Temple  till  his  death, 
243,  259  ;  the  parting  with  his  family, 
257  ;  Fils  de  Saint-Louis,  montez  au 
del,  258. 

Louis  Charles  (Dauphin),  Cle'ry's  ac- 
count of  him  in  the  Tower  of  the 
Temple,  119  ;  the  king  educates  him, 
127;  his  prayers,  129;  his  games, 
150,  167  ;  his  goodness  of  heart  and 
thoughtfulness,  160-162;  separated 
from  his  father,  168,  169  ;  the  final 
parting  from  liis  father,  199,  200, 
257  ;  rough  treatment  the  beginning 
of  his  illness,  263,  264 ;  torn  from 
his  mother  and  family,  266,  267  ;   hia 


328 


INDEX 


mother  watches  daily  for  hours  tosoe 
him  through  a  chink  in  the  wall,  267, 
29S  ;  given  oror  U)  tho  brutal  c  arc  of 
Simon.  268  ;  is  licpnulcil  hv  him,  270, 
271  ;  his  most  ilroailful  life.  280,  281, 
2S4  ;  after  9th  Thenuiiior  his  keep- 
ers, Laurent,  Cioinior,  and  Lasue, 
wero  very  kind  to  him,  2SG,  287  ;  his 
health  destroyed,  ho  dies  of  dirt, 
neglect,  and  cruelty,  June  9,  1795,  at 
3  P.M.,  283,  289. 
LuHKRSAO  (Abbe  dc),  letters  from 
Mme.  Elisabeth  to,  42,  65,  84,  87  ; 
massacred  September  2,  1792. 

Mackac  (the  Baronne  de),  Mmc.  Elisa- 
beth's second  governess,  her  wise 
treatment  of  the  child,  4,  6. 

Malksheriies  (Chrestien  de  Lamoig- 
non  de),  failure  of  his  reform  min- 
istry, 8,  30;  his  letter  to  Pres.  of 
National  Convention  offering  to  be 
the  king's  counsel,  173,174;  consul- 
tations with  the  king,  175-177,  187, 
181 ;  informs  the  king  of  his  sentence 
to  death,  188,  189;  deuied  access 
after  that  to  the  king,  190,  192,  256, 
257. 

Malocet  (M.  de),  his  Memoirs  of  the 
Constituent  Assembly  relate  the  ef- 
forts made  to  induce  Louis  XVL  to 
leave  Paris  and  form  a  National 
Party,   29-31. 

Manuel,  prosecutor  of  the  Commune 
and  member  of  National  Assembly, 
his  insults  to  the  king,  151-153,  244, 
252. 

Mabie-Antoinette  (Queen),  became 
queen  at  18  years  of  age,  7  ;  aids  the 
king  in  giving  Montreuil  to  Mme. 
:felisabeth,  19,  20 ;  life  in  the  Tuileries 
after  October  6,  1789,  25;  shares 
Mme.  Elisabeth's  fear  of  tlie  king's 
weakness,  but  looks  for  help  from 
Austria,  27 ;  her  noble  speech,  Au- 
gust 10,  1792,  31  ;  her  last  appearance 
to  the  eyes  of  men  until  her  condem- 
nation and  death,  October  16,  1793, 
32 ;  Mme  Elisabeth's  remarks  about 
her  in  letters,  36,  37;  taken  to  the 


Tower  of  the  Temple,  118;  attempt 
to  make  her  sec  the  head  of  Mme.  de 
Lainballe,  122-124;  her  life  and  oc- 
cupations in  the  Temple  described  by 
Clcry,  125-130  et  scr/.  ;  her  terrible 
parting  from  the  king,  198-200  ; 
her  daughter's  account  of  her,  211- 
213,  216,  217,  221,  232,  234-236,  238, 
245,  249,  252,  253,  255,  257,  258,  and 
until  her  death,  259-278,  28G ;  apus- 
troplie  to  her  written  by  Marie- 
ThcTCse  on  the  wall  of  her  room  in 
tho  Tower,  289,  290. 
M.\iaE-TnEui:SEDE  France,  Duchesse 
d'Angouleme,  her  Narrative,  2  ;  taken 
with  her  family  to  the  Tower  of  the 
Temple,  118;  Clory's  account  of  her 
life  there,  125  et  seq.,  150,  151  ;  faints 
on  parting  with  her  father,  199  ;  her 
Narrative,  209-295;  of  the  first  uj>- 
risiug,  October  5,1789,  210-216;  of 
the  flight  and  stoppage  at  Varenues, 
June  20,  1791,  216-230;  of  the  as- 
sault on  the  Tuileries,  June  20,  1792, 
230-236;  of  August  10,  1792,  236- 
243 ;  of  the  imprisonment  in  the 
Tower  of  the  Temple  till  the  death 
of  the  king,  243-259;  of  the  life  in 
the  Tower  from  the  deatli  of  the  king 
to  that  of  the  queen,  259-278 ;  of  the 
same  until  the  death  of  Mme.  Elisa- 
beth and  the  dauphin,  278-289;  her 
release  from  the  Temple,  marriage, 
exile,  and  portrait,  290  ;  Napoleon's 
remark  upon  her,  291,  306  ;  the  close 
of  her  life  at  Frohsdorf,  291  ;  tlie 
words  upon  her  tomb,  291  ;  Sainte- 
Beuve's  essay  on  her  life  and  char- 
acter, 294-310. 

Marsan  (Comtesse  de),  Mme.  Elisa- 
beth's first  governess,  3. 

MiRABEAU  ( Honore-Gabriel-Riquetti 
Comte  de),  54  ;    his  death,  GO,  61. 

MoNTiEKS  (Marquise  de),  letter  from 
Mme.  Elisabeth  to,  50-52. 

MoNTMORiN  (M.  de.),  his  efforts  with 
others  to  induce  the  king  to  leave 
Paris,  August  7,  1792,  and  form  a 
National  party,  29-31. 

MONTEEUIL,  19-22, 25,  36,  44  ;    its  fate 


INDEX. 


329 


after  Madame  Elisabeth's  imprison- 
ment, its  greenhouses,  library,  etc., 
311,  312. 
Morris   (Gouverneur),  his    efforts  to 
influence  Louis  XVI.  to  action,  30. 

Necker  (M.),  22,  24. 

October  5th  and  6th,  1789,  beginning 
of  the  French  Revolution,  and  the 
end  of  the  Monarchy,  210-216. 

Orleans  (Philippe  Egalite,  Due  d'), 
49 ;  conduct  on  the  5th  October,  1789, 
212, 213  ;  votes  the  king's  death,  194 ; 
his  death,  278. 

POTION  (Je'rome),  goes  with  Barnave 
and  others  to  compel  the  king's  re- 
turn from  Varennes,  226,  227  ;  con- 
duct as  Mayor  of  Paris,  234,  236, 242, 
249. 

Provence  (Monsieur,  Comte  de),  after- 
wards Louis  XVIIL,  12;  character- 
istics, 14  ;  his  friends,  15  ;  at  Mon- 
treuil,  21 ;  corrects  the  Narrative  of 
Marie-Therese,  Duchesse  d'Angou- 
leme,  209 ;  she  shares  his  exile  after 
her  release  from  the  Tower,  290,  last 
letters  of  the  family  in  the  Tower  to 
him,  323. 

Raigecourt  (Marquise  de),  one  of 
Madame  Elisabeth's  friends  and  cor- 
respondents, 1 0  ;  charming  story  of 
Mme.  "k-'s  love  for  her,  1 1  ;  Mme.  E.'s 
letters  to  her  and  others,  33-89. 

Rochefoucauld  (Due  de  La),  his  ac- 
count of  the  king  and  royal  family 
leaving  the  Tuileries,  August  10, 
1792,  32. 

Sainte-Bkuve  (C.-A.),  his  essay  on 
the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  294-310. 

Santerre,  brewer,  and  Commander  of 
the  National  Guard,  128, 196;  fetches 


the  king  for  the  scaffold,  205,  233, 
244. 

SiouR  (Vicomte  de),   36. 

SfezE  (M.  de),one  of  the  king's  counsel 
for  his  defence,  177;  defends  him, 
185. 

Simon,  shoemaker,  jailer  at  the  Tower, 
his  insolence,  132;  brutal  treatment 
of  the  little  dauphin,  268 ;  depraves 
him,  270,  271. 

Swiss  Guard  (The),  their  splendid  de- 
votion and  butchery,  August  10, 1792, 
31. 

Target  (M.),  refuses  the  king's  re- 
quest to   defend  him,    173. 

TisoN,  employed  in  the  Tower  of  the 
Temple,  151,  245;  Mme.  Tison  be- 
comes insane  from  remorse,  265, 
266. 

TooLAN,  a  municipal  at  the  Temple 
faithful  to  the  royal  family,  his  death 
in  consequence,  157,  158;  notes  to 
him  from  Mme.  Elisabeth,  321 ;  res- 
cues the  king's  seal  and  ring  for  the 
queen,  323. 

TouRZEL  (Marquise  de),  accompanies 
royal  family  to  the  Temple,  32,  115, 
118  ;  the  dauphin  prays  for  her,  129  ; 
Madame  Royale's  account  of  her, 
217-221,  238,  239,  244. 

Tronchet  (M.),  accepts  the  king's  re- 
quest to  defend  him,  173,  175,  176, 
184. 

TuRGOT  (Robert- Jacques),  failure  of 
his  reform  ministry,  7. 

TuRGY,  seeks  employment  in  the 
Temple  to  serve  the  imprisoned 
royal  family,  143,  144,  177,  178,  212, 
272 ;  signs  agreed  upon  aud  notes 
passing  between  himself  and  Mme. 
i^lisabeth,  318-322 ;  carries  the  seal 
and  ring  of  Louis  XVI.,  with  notes 
from  the  royal  family  to  Monsieur 
and  the  Comte  d'Artois,  323,  324. 


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